


Lay It All On Me

by Pikelet184



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Attempted Murder, Blood and Injury, Enemies to Friends, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Language, Mild Blood, Robbery, Trust Issues, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-06
Updated: 2016-10-16
Packaged: 2018-05-31 17:55:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 30,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6480718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pikelet184/pseuds/Pikelet184
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke Griffin moved to Arcadia with the aim of carving her own path and distancing herself from her past. While building a new life, a new career and enjoying new friendships, she comes across Bellamy Blake. He's arrogant, rude and likes to make her life difficult. </p><p>She figures he's never going to change. But he might have to when a Saturday night takes a turn for the worst - and their only hope of getting out of it alive is to rely on each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer - I dont own anything to do with 'The 100'.
> 
> Song title and lyrics 'Lay It All On Me' are by Rudimental feat. Ed Sheeran. 
> 
> A huge thank you to my pre reader and beta Sponsormusings for her talent and generosity.

'If you’re hurting, if you’re hurting  
Lay it all on me  
You can lay it all on me.'

 

~ Then ~

Spring, 2015

 

“Clarke! My brother’s here, I want you to meet him!” Octavia calls out to her over the heavy bass of the music. Grabbing onto Clarke’s hand, she excitedly guides them through the mass of sweaty bodies and off the dance floor. 

They approach the table they had reserved earlier in the night, which is at the back of the ‘Grounder’s Club’, where it is quieter and more intimate. Clarke notices a young man with dark curly hair and a serious expression on his face, as he talks to Octavia’s boyfriend, Lincoln. Even with the soft warm glow of the downlights dancing across the man’s face, she can make out dark eyes, olive skin and a soft dusting of freckles across his nose and cheeks. He’s gorgeous. As he takes a drink from his beer, Clarke can’t help but admire his toned arm muscles and broad shoulders in his navy blue shirt. Her heart gives a flutter and she suddenly feels nervous. 

Clarke watches as Octavia reaches her brother’s side and pulls him into a tight hug. He returns her embrace with a smile that lights up his entire face. 

“I’ve missed you big brother.”

“I’ve missed you too,” he replies in a deep smooth voice. “I’ve only been gone a couple of months and look at you,” he appraises, standing back to admire her. “I swear you’ve gotten taller.” 

“Nah, it’s probably the heels,” she jokes as she lifts up a sequin encrusted shoe to show him.

He chuckles, “It must be.” Taking a more serious tone he adds, “So Lincoln tells me you’re still going well with your classes.”

“All going well, stop worrying,” she assures him with a sigh, and takes a seat, gesturing to Clarke to sit next to her. 

“It’s what I do best, O” he replies light-heartedly, sitting down across from her and taking a long sip of his beer. 

Octavia places an arm around Clarke’s shoulders, giving it a comforting squeeze, before turning her attention back to her brother. “So Bell, this is my friend Clarke, the one I’ve been telling you about. She works with Lincoln.” Looking back over to Clarke with a wink she adds, “Clarke, this is my over protective, stubborn ass, brother, Bellamy. He will never admit it, but amongst that tough exterior of his is a heart of gold,” She sums up, her tone playful.

Clarke smiles at the guy that she’s heard so much about over the last few months. She was keen to meet the man, who took it upon himself to apply and be granted guardianship of his younger sister after their mother had passed away. At the time he’d only been 21 years old and had dropped out of college to take a job as a security guard so he could offer a more stable home life for Octavia, who’d been 13 years old. 

“It’s nice to meet you.” Clarke smiles nervously. “Octavia never shuts up about you.”

Bellamy’s dark brown eyes finally fall onto hers and they give a hard and apprehensive look. He then curls up his lips into a forced smile. “O has told me a lot about you too,” he replies curtly.

Feeling suddenly put off by the coldness of his actions and his abrupt tone of voice, she tries to ignore it, along with the nerves swirling in her belly. “Well I hope it was all good,” she laughs awkwardly. 

Bellamy pulls a face and takes another sip of his beer, avoiding eye contact with her. Clarke feels her heart sink and her face go red. This was not going well at all. Where was the nice guy who was just joking around with his sister? Where was the guy who tutored his sister in history or learnt how to braid her hair so she wouldn’t feel left out at school or taught her how to drive a car or helped her get into college? Does she have another brother? Because it’s hard to believe that the unpleasant guy sitting in front of her is the same one Octavia has been raving about. 

Noticing the uncomfortable silence settling in the air, Octavia speaks up with gentle concern. “Is everything alright, Bell? You don’t seem like yourself.” 

Instantly noticing the worry in his sister’s eyes, Bellamy takes her hand and flashes her a comforting smile. “Everything is fine, O. Don’t worry, I’m taking care of it.”

Unable to hide the worried lines forming on her face, Octavia leans over the table so she’s closer to Bellamy, and softens her voice. “Did everything go alright at the hearing? You were gone longer than you said you would. It’s done now? Over?” she asks anxiously.

Clarke tries not to eavesdrop into their conversation, but it’s impossible considering their close proximity to one another. Looking to distract herself, Clarke looks down and fiddles with the lace material on her black dress. Taking a chance she glances up and looks over to Lincoln, hoping to see some reassurance in his features. His eyes are kind but he gives a tight smile in return. 

“Everything went well, O,” Bellamy assures her, keeping his voice quiet. “The problem was taken care of. And in return they accepted my resignation and they’re going to write a letter of recommendation and support my college application. I’ve got this.” he promises. 

After a few moments of silence, Clarke peeks over and observes Octavia. She is staring at Bellamy with a measured look, like she is carefully considering what he just said. After a moment her eyes flash brightly in relief and her mouth shifts into a smile. “Okay, good.” As she becomes more aware of her surroundings and the people sharing a table with her, Octavia declares “Alright, enough of this serious adult stuff. It’s Saturday night - let’s get drunk. Lincoln and I, are going to get drinks.” 

Clarke looks over to Lincoln, who is staring back at her with a worried look. She’s about to speak up and announce she’s happy to go and get the drinks, as she couldn’t think of anything more painful and awkward than being left alone with Bellamy. However, Octavia quickly grabs Lincoln’s hand, gives Clarke a wink and says “Be nice, Bell, she’s my best friend,” before she drags Lincoln over to the bar. 

For a few minutes Clarke and Bellamy remain seated in an uneasy silence and avoid each other’s gazes. She can still feel the indifference shooting off him. What the hell has she done to cause him to act this way? What’s his problem? She sneaks a subtle glance his way and observes him concentrating ridiculously hard on drinking the last dregs of his beer. 

Sighing inwardly at the rejection that the supposed nice guy in front of her would much rather pay more attention to the backwash sitting at the bottom of his beer glass then to her, she looks around the bar, watching the other party goers. She feels a hint of jealousy - all of them are smiling, laughing, dancing and seemingly having a good time. None of them are currently trapped next to a guy who is being a rude and disrespectful dickhead. Bellamy Blake doesn’t seem to care about making a good first impression. 

Wishing Octavia and Lincoln would hurry up with their drinks, she begins to realise that she doesn’t want things to be this way between her and Bellamy. Octavia is her best friend and she knows if she can’t get along with her brother, things will be difficult. She only moved here a few months ago and Octavia is her only real friend, so she needs to get along with him. From what she could gather from the brief and tense conversation between them earlier, something serious must be going on with Bellamy’s job. Things like that can be stressful and Clarke knows all too well how easy it is to lose your sense of self when you’re feeling under pressure and worried. Maybe his bad attitude is just a onetime thing and he’s just having a bad night. She should try to give him the benefit of the doubt. Give him another chance. For Octavia.

Feeling a sense of optimism, Clarke turns her head towards him with a determined smile on her face. She is shocked to see that he is already looking back at her, staring intently with a look she can’t decipher. 

Noticing her gaze on his, he quickly sets his eyes hard and his mouth into a frown. “This isn’t going to work,” his states firmly, “I know this is a set up.”

“What’s not going to work?” Clarke’s brows furrow in confusion.

Bellamy shakes his head in frustration. “You’re kidding right? You couldn’t see this coming a mile away? My sister is trying to set us up!”

Clarke’s jaw drops and her blue eyes open wide as saucers. Is that why Octavia winked at her before? This was news to her. She thought she was meeting her brother because he’s one of the most important people in her life.

“You’re telling me princess, that my sister hasn’t been talking about me more than usual to you lately?” He said, breaking through her stupor. “In the last month all I’ve heard on the phone is Clarke this and Clarke that,” He adds, rolling his eyes.

Thinking about it carefully now, yes, Octavia has been talking about Bellamy more than usual lately, but she just thought she missed her brother, not that she was telling Clarke all this stuff so she would date him. 

Wait! Clarke’s brain finally catches up and registers something - did he just call me princess? The feeling of nerves that were swirling in her belly earlier were now starting to boil in anger. How dare he!

“Did you just call me princess?” she asks incredulously. 

Bellamy’s lips curl into an arrogant smirk. “I know all about you, princess.”

Clarke’s eyes flash with disbelief and her mouth parts in shock. She didn’t misunderstand him, he did say it. And now he seems to be getting off on her reaction, if the look on his face at the moment is anything to go by – his eyes are glinting in triumph. 

Taking advantage of her lack of response, he continues. “When Octavia told me you guys had become friends and that I should meet you, I thought it was strange that you just seemed to have appeared in her life out of nowhere. And when I asked Octavia questions about you, she said she didn’t know too much. That’s when alarm bells started ringing in my head. So I decided to do some investigating.” He stops dramatically and pulls out a folded piece of paper from the back of his jeans. Placing it on the table he looks over to Clarke smugly. 

Clarke continues to stare at him in a strange and unbelievable wonder as shock and disbelief run through her body. Her mouth feels dry and her voice won’t cooperate. She feels her hands clenching into fists, she would love to lean over the table and wipe that obnoxious smirk right off his cruel yet gorgeous face. Eurgh! Octavia wasn’t kidding when she said he was overprotective. She also should have added mean, ignorant, judgemental and a psycho. 

She suddenly feels a rush of laughter rise up from the back of her throat. Her whole body shakes in amusement and she releases a little snort. She is flabbergasted at his boldness and the absurdity of this whole situation. 

“You think this is funny, princess? He asks, through gritted teeth.

“I do actually,” Clarke smiles in amusement. Looking at him she feels a sense of satisfaction when she notices his nostrils flaring and his jaw clenching in anger. “Let me get this straight.” Clarke continues taking a deep breath and trying to keep the laughter at bay. “You run background checks on everyone that Octavia comes into contact with. Do you know how obscene and creepy that sounds?”

Bellamy leans over the table, boring his face sternly into hers, “I take the welfare of my sister very seriously. My sister, my responsibility.” He states it like it’s a fact, like he’s reciting a mantra.

“I would never intentionally hurt your sister.” Clarke snaps back, her blue eyes staying glued to his blazing brown ones. She’s not backing down. 

“Really? So she knows all about where you’re from and who your family is?” he asks, incredulously. 

Feeling suddenly alarmed and taken back, Clarke furrows her brows in surprise and turns her face away from him, determined not to show any more emotion. She hasn’t told Octavia or anyone for that matter where she’s from and why she’s here. She has her reasons not to share anything about her previous life. She doesn’t do it to be cruel or to keep people in the dark. She enjoys her life now in Arcadia and the freedom she finally has. She isn’t ready to confront her past just yet.

 

Not seeming to care about the dilemma currently playing through Clarke’s mind, Bellamy straightens himself up in his chair and folds his arms across his chest like he’s some superior leader. Breaking the silence he resumes goading her, “I’m quite surprised you get along with Octavia so well, since you wouldn’t be used to conversing with the peasants of Arcadia.”

Failing to hide her emotions any longer, she turns around and fires back, “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” 

“You’re from Mount Weather!” he states, like he’s answering the simplest question in the world. “Your family is known as royalty amongst the town’s higher social circle.” He unfolds the piece of paper he brought out earlier. Clarke looks over at it and can see it’s a copy of a newspaper article with a photograph. Recognising it immediately, Clarke nervously chews on her lip and says nothing.

Looking pleased with himself, Bellamy begins to read the article out loud in a patronising tone…  
“All eyes were on the esteemed Griffin family tonight. Well respected researcher Dr. Jake Griffin, along with his wife, Mount Weather Hospital’s emergency department head, Dr. Abby Griffin, and their daughter, Clarke Griffin who is currently studying pre-med at the prestigious Mount Weather Academy, took centre stage tonight as they were out celebrating the Mayor’s birthday at Town Hall. Both doctors have been long-time friends and supporters of Mayor Jaha, as well as esteemed members of the town’s council. Their contributions and financial support has helped the town expand and prosper, notably over the last ten years. Dr. Jake Griffin, has brought about –’’

“That’s enough!” Clarke interjects sharply. She can’t bear to hear any more of this ridiculous and self-serving article (that her mother demanded to feature) come out of Bellamy’s disdainful mouth. On top of that, if he mentions her father again, she will well and truly lose it. He obviously hadn’t done that much research on her, considering the article is nearly a year old and her father died 6 months ago. There was no way in hell she was bringing that to his attention. Pushing down the mixture of anger and sadness that the article stirred within, she turns to him directly, wearing a stony expression. 

“Well isn’t that a nice memento for your familys scrapbook,” Bellamy sneers, throwing the article on the table in disgust. “So, tell me, what is Mount Weather’s princess doing in Arcadia slumming it with its working class?” Relishing in her silence he continues talking down to her, “Maybe the princess is rebelling against the King and Queen? Or maybe the princess didn’t realise that med school was actually going to be hard work and she couldn’t take the pressure? Am I getting close, sweetheart?”

Choosing not to get sucked into his little game, she decides to ignore and deflect a question right back at him - one that she thinks will rile him up. “You know you seem awfully worked up and obsessed with someone you’ve just met - what are you, jealous?” 

“Don’t flatter yourself princess,” Bellamy spits in disgust. “My issue is that you have been lying to my sister and are using her in whatever little game you’ve got going on with your family.”

“This whole thing is ridiculous. You’re ridiculous!” Clarke shouts back wildly. “I may not have been entirely truthful to your sister about my family, but that’s my business. I’m not using Octavia or anyone.”

“I don’t appreciate liars and I don’t trust you,” he growls back, his mind made up. “Octavia has had too many people lie to her throughout her life –’’

Clarke cuts in. “I know what you and Octavia have been through, but you don’t –“ 

“You don’t know anything about what we’ve been through!” Bellamy bellows back. “You think you have some kind of understanding of us because my sister shared some tidbits of our childhood to you? He asks ludicrously. “People from Mount Weather can never understand what it’s like for people in Arcadia. Our towns are only a few miles apart but with the difference between our socio-economic statuses, we may as well be from different planets. All of you from the mountain are the same - a bunch of lying, self-centred and egotistical rich assholes who have never had to struggle a day in their lives and don’t give a shit about anyone else!”

Clarke can’t hide her shock at his outburst, she feels she has been given an electric shock. Her mouth hangs open as his strong words settle around them. She watches as his features change from anger to shock, like he’s surprised himself about his outburst. That quickly dissipates as he leans back in his seat and takes a deep breath. 

Clarke’s brain is on overload as she tries to process all the thoughts and feelings running through her. She will never admit it to him but she does agree with a lot of the things he said. A lot of his assumptions are spot on. He has described many people who are associated with her parents perfectly - even her own mother fits into that mould. Clarke knows she comes from a privileged family and has had more opportunities than most, but there was a definite downside to that lifestyle, which she became more aware of as she grew older. The sense of feeling trapped and having no control of your life was something she was very familiar with. Clarke had always had an interest in studying medicine, but it was more on what her mother would call the ‘alternative side’. Since a young age, she was always interested in nature and the wonders it had to offer. She was fascinated with flowers and herbs and how they could be used to treat and cure ailments and improve one’s health. This interest horrified her mother and she did everything in her power to steer Clarke onto the approved path that ‘Dr. Abby Griffin’ paved out for her since birth. Guilt and pressure eventually won out and Clarke attended medical school. During her second year, her life took a dramatic turn and her father died suddenly in a car crash - Clarke was devastated by the loss. Out of her parents, she was the closest to her father - he understood Clarke’s passion and interest in nature due to his research projects. During that sad and difficult time, Clarke didn’t think her life could get any worse – but she was wrong. The day before her father’s funeral, she had come home to find her mother in a loving embrace with her colleague, Dr. Marcus Kane. After a lot of screaming, crying and throwing objects around the living room her mother finally revealed that she and Clarke’s father hadn’t been happy in their marriage for a long time. The final stab in the heart came when her mother revealed that Clarke’s father learnt about the affair the day he died. Feeling utterly distraught and betrayed Clarke fled the house and cut off all ties to her mother. Sitting alone, after the funeral Clarke pondered and came to the realisation that life was too short. You could be miserable or you could be happy and she knew her father would want her to be happy. That afternoon she pulled herself out of medical school, packed her bags and headed to a hotel in Arcadia – away from her mother’s pressure and influence. The day she was offered an apprenticeship at Lincoln’s Remedies and Preventative Medicines she took a selfie of herself in front of the practice, put up her middle finger and sent the photo off to her mother. It was the only time she had ever contacted her. Since she’s been gone she refuses to answer any of her mother’s calls, texts and emails. She knew that this new development would upset her mother and she wanted her to feel it – badly! 

During her 6 months of living in Arcadia, Clarke has never regretted cutting ties with her mother, but she does feel a lot of guilt and shame about where she comes from when she sees a lot of the struggles many Arcadians go through everyday – financial, social and physical hardships. How could Bellamy, someone she only just met, someone she doesn’t even like, be able to make her feel like crying? How hard was his life growing up? She wonders. Was it just one thing or was it a combination of difficult life experiences and circumstances that caused him to develop a tough and unkind exterior? Is this the real him or a defence mechanism? Looking over to him, hoping to gain some detectable insight, she catches him looking at her with a sneer. Clarke groans internally - that settles it - he’s an asshole. 

Looking at him closely, Clarke pushes away the thoughts and emotions that she’s been thinking about in the last few minutes. “Are you done now?” she asks without sentiment. 

“Yeah, I’m done,” he says bluntly, his eyes showing a sense of exhaustion - Clarke recognises the feeling immediately. She watches him get up from his seat and walk slowly around the edge of the table to her.

“I’m not going to be able to stop Octavia being friends with you. I know she finds it difficult to make friends and she seems quite attached to you, so I don’t want to ruin that for her. But keep in mind, I’ll be watching you and if you hurt my sister, you and me are going to have problems.”

Before Clarke can reply with a comeback they are suddenly interrupted by a bubbling Octavia, Lincoln following close behind carrying a tray full of drinks. 

“Alright, let’s get our drinks on!” Octavia shouts happily. “Clarke, I got you your favourite.” She points it out as she places all the drinks onto the table. Lincoln picks up the empty tray and takes it back to the bar without a word. “So what have I missed? Anything interesting?” Octavia directs her attention to Clarke then to Bellamy.

Clarke and Bellamy glance at each other, wearing identical expressions of indifference, their eyes, however, communicate a message of understanding. “No, not much,” Clarke replies with a forced smile, grabbing her drink and taking a big gulp. She’s never needed a drink more. 

“Yep, all good,” Bellamy agrees and takes a beer off the table. “O, I’ll be back, I need to get some air.” 

“Alright, see you soon,” Octavia calls out to him as he walks away. She sits down next to Clarke and grabs a fruity cocktail to take a sip. They drink in silence for a few moments before Octavia puts her drink down and turns to her. “Alright, spill it Clarke, what did my brother say to you?”

Clarke chokes on her drink, spluttering and coughing. Calming herself down, she takes a couple of deep breaths and puts down her glass, “What do you mean?” she asks innocently.

“Ha!” Octavia scoffs, “I know my brother, Clarke. Remember I told you he can be overprotective? Well that’s not an understatement,” she declares. 

Clarke doesn’t know what to say, the conversation between her and Bellamy was awful and her emotions are still all over the place. She really doesn’t want to relive it with Octavia, especially at this point in time, “Can we just drop it for now?” she asks. “We’re here to drink and have some fun, so let’s drink to that,” she insists, picking up her glass with a smile and clinking it with Octavia’s. 

“Yes, let’s drink to that,” She agrees, clinking her glass right back. “Oh, and let’s drink to my failed attempt at matchmaking,” Octavia grimaces as she gulps her cocktail down in one motion. 

Clarke scoffs and shakes her head, “Even though I don’t want to talk about this right now, I will say that you were clearly off the mark. I don’t know what you were thinking,” she sighs. “Your brother’s a dickhead.”

Octavia bursts out laughing, the alcohol clearly affecting her. “I’m sorry, please don’t be mad,” she says placing a drunken arm around Clarke’s shoulders. “I just think you both have a lot in common and – you both just seem so lonely.” She looks up at Clarke sadly. 

Clarke looks at her in surprise, she feels touched that Octavia can read her so well. She has been lonely. She barely has any contact with her old school friends anymore and now living in an unfamiliar place makes her feel isolated. Meeting and becoming friends with Octavia has been a blessing. Octavia is a kindred spirit, she automatically felt a connection with. “Thank you,” Clarke says, leaning her head down onto Octavia’s shoulder. The effects of the alcohol start to run through her veins and she begins to feel that great sensation of weightlessness and the fading of her inhibitions. 

“He really is sweet you know. I really thought that as soon as you saw each other the sparks would fly,” Octavia admitted thoughtfully.

Clarke snorted, yeah the sparks flew alright, but not in the way she was sure Octavia desired. But she didn’t want to reflect on that right now, though - Clarke just wanted to put that part of the night behind her and have some fun. 

“Come on, let’s dance,” she suggests as she gets up and leads herself and Octavia onto the dance floor. It’s packed full of bodies and the atmosphere feels hot and reeks of cologne and sweat. The bass of the new Skaikru hit song ‘Whatever the hell we want’ is playing through the speakers, causing the walls and ceiling of the dance floor to vibrate. In their drunken haze, Clarke and Octavia try to choreograph a dance move they saw on the T.V show ‘Reapers Dance’ - they end up failing horrendously and fall into girlish laughter. 

Moving her hips provocatively and swinging herself around so her back is to Octavia, Clarke looks out through the crowd and is momentarily distracted by the coloured lights and the smoke. Blinking a few times, she notices a tall masculine figure standing in the midst of the crowd. Bellamy. Clarke groans, great, she didn’t want to see him again tonight, or ever again if she could help it, but even through her drunken stupor, she knew that wasn’t realistic. He was Octavia’s brother, of course, she was going to see him again. Confusingly though, Clarke can’t turn away when she notices he has his arms around a brunette and is leaning in to kiss her. 

Clarke tries not to stare, but she is mesmerised by his strong hands moving down the woman’s body and settling on her hips. From where she’s standing, she can see his fingers tightening as he pulls the brunette flush against his muscular chest. Clarke can see the woman’s hands curling into his hair lazily as they both deepen the kiss. It’s hot and wet. 

Clarke feels a jolt in her belly and her skin turns hot and clammy while her heart thuds oddly in her chest, and she’s baffled why. Clarke immediately makes herself turn around and face Octavia, who she can now see is dancing with Lincoln. Putting a smile on her face she continues to dance to the beat. She doesn’t know what these feelings mean or where they came from. And she finds it quite unsettling considering everything that went on between them tonight. 

Not being able to help herself again, Clark sneaks a peek over her right shoulder, seeing Bellamy and the brunette finally coming up for air, the woman whispering in his ear. He looks down at her with a small smile and nods his head. The brunette’s eyes shine in excitement and he takes her hand and leads her to the exit. 

Clarke’s eyes follow them out; the flashing exit sign above the door becomes a welcoming and appreciated sight, as it breaks Clarke out of her confusing state. Shaking her head, she thinks good riddance, she doesn’t need people like Bellamy in her life anyway. 

When the music envelops her into the next song, she feels a pair of hands behind her as they slide down to her hips, startling her out of her reverie - she turns her head and notices a guy with shaggy light brown hair and brown eyes, smiling sweetly at her. He’s cute. 

“I’m Finn. Wanna dance?” he yells over the music.

Clarke smiles and nods her head – there’s nothing like a good looking guy to take her mind off things she doesn’t want to think about. She then joins her hands with his as they dance closer together for the rest of the night. 

It’s not until later, when she’s lying in bed that night, staring at the stars through her open window that she allows herself to think of Bellamy again. She’s quick to come to the conclusion that the odd feelings she felt briefly towards him while she was dancing were alcohol induced and the fact that she was feeling lonely. Because even though she felt a slight attraction when she first laid eyes on him, that has definitely gone now!

He’s cruel and a judgemental bully and she has no intention of letting herself ever consider getting involved with someone like that. One of the reasons she left Mount Weather was to forge her own path, not to listen to people put her down, but if he wants to watch and taunt her, well that’s fine, he could go right ahead. She’s not going anywhere – Octavia was her friend, and she wasn’t going to let him ruin that. And she’s damn good at dishing insults out, and was more than happy to throw them right back at him, now that she knows what she’s dealing with. 

She grins triumphantly in the dark, knowing that she’s not going to let him walk all over her. She’s on guard now, because from now on, Bellamy Blake won’t know what’s hit him.

She figures it’s time he’s met his match. And it’s her.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry that it's been awhile. I have been working hard on this story and in fact the next chapter has been written - just needs to be edited. So it shouldn't be long between updates. Thank you for your patience. 
> 
> Please note: Chapter 1 was set in the past - this chapter we're now in is set in the present (1 year later). As it has been awhile I would recommend going back and reading chapter 1 :)
> 
> Thank you to Sponsormusings for all her time and skills in being my beta :)
> 
> Enjoy!

_If you’re scared when you’re out on your own_

_Just remember me_

_Cause I won’t let you go, let alone_

_Lay it all on me_

_~ Now ~_

_Spring 2016_

 

“Clarke! Is that you? Oh my God, you came!” A familiar voice calls out behind her and suddenly Clarke feels herself being turned around and pulled into a rib crushing hug. She recognises the arms around her immediately, the scent of her oldest friend is all too familiar - only he could get away with wearing ‘King Roan’, the strongest cologne known to man. “Oh, I’ve missed you so much,” he whispers in her ear.

 

Clarke smiles sadly and relaxes into his warm embrace. “I’ve missed you too, Wells.”

 

Pulling away, they stare at each other, trying to familiarise themselves again.  A feeling of happiness and nostalgia flows through them - they both know that after tonight she won’t return, and that the only reason she’s here now is to honour _his_ memory. Otherwise she wouldn’t be caught dead back in this place again, a place that’s full of haunting memories.

 

“How are you?” he inquires.

 

“I’m going well,” she answers with a smile.

 

“I’m glad,” he responds in relief. “I’ve been worried about you. My father wouldn’t let me contact you, after…everything.” He looks over his shoulder and directs his attention to the two security guards standing by the entrance. “I’m surprised he hasn’t gotten one of them hauling me away from you right now.”

 

Following his line of sight, Clarke’s mouth lifts into a smirk as she observes the Mayor’s guards trying to watch them inconspicuously. “I see nothing has changed.”

 

Wells chuckles and then turns back around nervously to meet her eyes. “I hope you’re not mad at me for not contacting you,” he says quietly. Clarke can see the guilt in his body language. “I tried to so many times…but you know how my father is - he’s afraid you’ll try and influence me to leave as well. So they’re watching me like a hawk.”

 

Even though his lack of contact hurt and part of her felt betrayed and abandoned, Clarke knew none of it was Wells’ fault. This was of her own doing. She knew what would happen if she left Mount Weather, and one of those things was losing Wells as a friend. She wasn’t surprised by the lack of contact in the last year and a half and knew his father was behind it. “It’s all forgiven,” she says reassuringly and pulls him into another hug. Wells leans his head on top of hers and sighs softly.

 

“Thank you,” he murmurs as he pulls away and looks at her carefully. “So how are you, really? Have you been alright? I heard you got work with an herbal practitioner - that’s your dream. I’m so happy for you,” Wells rattles off quickly.

 

Laughing at the lightning speed of her friend’s comments, she places an arm out to stop him. “Woah, whoa, slow down there roadrunner, I’m finding it hard to keep up with you.”

 

“Sorry,” Wells looks down sheepishly. “It’s just that I don’t know how long I’ll have to talk to you tonight and I just need to know that everything’s alright.”

 

Feeling touched by Wells’ concern she takes a hold of his hand, which feels warm and soft and smiles. “I promise you I’m fine; I love living in Arcadia. I’ve made some great friends and I have my dream job. What more could a girl ask for?”

 

Wells nods his head. “So no regrets then?”

 

“Not one,” Clarke responds immediately. She doesn’t even need to consider the question. There’s no doubt in her mind that Arcadia is now her home. She’s made a life there, and even though that life has had a few hiccups and heartache in the last year, she’s come through it stronger than ever. She can’t see herself living anywhere else. It’s home.

 

“I’m glad. You deserve to be happy.”

 

Clarke nods her head in agreement. “And you deserve to be happy too, Wells.” She stares at him intently trying to relay a deeper message.

 

Being able to read her immediately, he turns his face into an impartial expression and replies, “I am happy.”

 

As she hasn’t seen him in over a year, Clarke doesn’t know whether to believe him or not. She’s also aware that this isn’t the time or place to discuss these type of matters, especially with security and their parents in close proximity. Clarke nods her head and says simply, “I hope that’s true.”

 

After that, the two of them ease into some playful banter, but as Wells is complimenting her on her sapphire-colored evening gown, Clarke feels the hairs on the back of her neck stand straight and a shiver run down her spine. She knows it’s not from the cool air flowing from the ceiling ducts - someone is staring at her, and she doesn’t need to turn around to know whose eyes are currently watching her. Swallowing the lump forming in her throat, Clarke turns around to face the woman she hasn’t seen or spoken to in almost a year and a half. Her mother is about 12ft away from her, standing next to one of her father’s old research partners. The man continues to talk, oblivious to the fact that she’s no longer paying him any attention, as she’s too busy participating in a staring contest with her estranged daughter. Clarke looks at her closely and notices that she hasn’t changed too much physically – her brown hair is up in a tight chignon hairstyle which goes well with the black ball gown she’s currently wearing. However it’s the firm expression that she usually wears that has changed, it’s now softer – Clarke can see a glimmer of relief…and hope as she looks Clarke up and down.

 

“Shit, my mother’s watching us,” She whispers, turning back to Wells.

 

Wells looks over her shoulder and lifts his mouth into an amused smirk. “I see nothing has changed,” he says repeating Clarke’s words from earlier.

 

Clarke huffs in annoyance. “I was really hoping to avoid her - I don’t want to see her. I’m only here for him.”

 

“I know,” Wells says. “He’d be so happy you came tonight. But let’s face it, do you really think Dr. Abby Griffin was going to let you walk out of here without a word?”

 

“Well a girl can hope,” she responds dryly.

 

Still feeling the sensation of her mother watching her, Clarke begins to feel uncomfortable and now just wants to go home, have a soak in the tub and go to bed. “I’m sorry Wells, but I can’t be in the same room with her anymore. I have to go.” She quickly reaches up and gives him a hug. “If you ever change your mind about Arcadia, look me up,” she whispers in his ear.

 

Clarke feels him give a grin against her cheek. “Will do. Take care of yourself.”

 

Nodding her head Clarke pulls away and tries not to think about the fact that it could be a long time before she sees Wells again. He’s been her best friend since they were young and the last year hasn’t been easy without him.

 

Making her way over to the buffet table, Clarke tries not to trip over her ridiculous and tight fitting gown – last week when they were out shopping for a dress, specifically for this occasion, Octavia took one look at the gown and insisted that Clarke had to buy it stating that the dress brought out her eyes and highlighted her breasts. At that point she really didn’t care how she looked, she was sick of shopping and so she gave into Octavia’s demands. Standing now in front of the table, Clarke peeks a look over her shoulder. She can see her mother now talking to a different older man, but Clarke can tell her attention really isn’t on him either – she’s still watching her. Hoping her mother’s etiquette of good manners, especially in a public social setting holds up, she thinks the hell with this and rushes towards the exit.  

 

“Clarke, wait!”

 

She picks up the pace, as much as she can in her heels and holds up her dress in both hands so she doesn’t trip over the hem. She hears the footsteps getting closer as she makes it down the stairs of Town Hall and into the parking lot. She refused to use a valet service tonight in case she needed to make a quick escape - she spots her car easily next to the building’s rose bushes.

 

“Clarke, stop! Please, your father wouldn’t have wanted this.” Her mother’s loud voice pierces the cool night air.

 

The mention of her father stops Clarke right in her tracks. He’s her weakness and her mother knows it – it’s a low blow. Keeping her head facing forward she hears her mother’s heels crunching along the gravel as she moves closer to her.

 

“I’m glad you came.”

 

She turns in disgust, “I’m not here for you. The benefit tonight is to support dad’s project – the _last_ project he was working on before he died!” Clarke highlights shrilly.

 

Abby nods calmly, like she was expecting Clarke’s outburst. “Still - I’m glad you did. I really wanted to see you.”

 

“And why’s that? You thought it would be the perfect opportunity to state your case and try to convince me to come back home? Were you going to try and convince me to go back to med school? Or maybe try and convince me that you weren’t in the wrong and didn’t betray dad when you were off having an affair with Marcus Kane?!” she hisses.

 

“Clarke, stop. No – I know that I hurt you and that you don’t like me very much at the moment –“

 

Clarke scoffs. “That’s one word to describe how I’m feeling.”

 

“I’m not proud of what I did, Clarke. I loved your father –

 

“No!” Clarke cuts in angrily. “If you loved my father, you wouldn’t have cheated on him. You don’t do that to someone you love. If you and dad were having problems, you deal with it together, you don’t go looking for someone else. That just creates more problems…and more heartache,” she lets out a sob, one she was trying very hard to keep in. “Dad found out about the two of you and he was so mad that he got into his car, got distracted and ran off the road hitting a tree.” Clarke feels a couple of stray tears run slowly down her face.

 

Taking a step forward, Abby tries to comfort her, but Clarke quickly steps back angrily. “No, you don’t get to do that. I don’t want you touching me.” Clarke can feel the hurt and anger bubbling inside her now – she wants her mother to feel the pain she’s feeling.

“He’s dead because of you. Your actions killed him and you think I just dislike you?” Clarke grits her teeth and takes a step towards her mother, staring her straight in the eye. “I hate you.”

 

Abby’s face falls and her eyes begin to water. “Clarke I –I’m so sorry. I miss you so much. I can’t lose you too,” she chokes out.

 

Clarke’s mouth drops open in shock, confusion filling her at the sight of her mother’s eyes filling with tears. In all the years Clarke’s known her she’s rarely seen her mother show any emotion let alone cry and look so vulnerable. She’s always been strong and stoic. Clarke feels torn about this new development and turns away. She doesn’t want to feel sorry for her mother, not after everything she’s done.

 

“I need to know that you’re alright?” her mother begs as she tries to compose herself. Clarke gives her an incredulous look. “I mean, I don’t even know where you’re living, Clarke. Do you have a house? An apartment? Are you in a safe neighborhood? I know you have a job...” she wanders off, clearly thinking about the photo message Clarke sent her over a year ago.

 

Clarke can’t help but turn her lips into a tiny smirk, she feels no shame in sending that photo to her mother. The experience was actually quite liberating, Clarke really felt a sense of freedom when she hit the send button on her phone and she will never apologise for it.

However, she can’t ignore the hurt she sees in her mother’s eyes and even though she doesn’t want anything to do with her, Clarke can feel some of her anger slipping away.

She should at least throw her a bone. Her mother’s emotions tonight have come out of nowhere and thrown her - Abby Griffin doesn’t cry. Tonight certainly wasn’t going the way she thought it would. She was hoping she wouldn’t run into her mother and if she did, she was sure there’d only be yelling and swearing involved.

 

“I’m renting an apartment and I’m still training as an Herbalist,” she shares quietly, breaking the silence between them.

 

Abby looks up at her in surprise.

 

“I’ve also made some friends and…I love living in Arcadia.”

 

Abby gives her a relieved smile. “Thank you.”

 

Clarke nods stiffly.

 

“I just don’t want you to regret anything – the day you made all those decisions was a very emotional day. I just hope you aren’t doing all this to spite me –”

 

“Oh no, don’t you go there,” Clarke’s face immediately flares into anger. “The number one reason why I left and did all this was for me – for the very first time I took charge of my own life.”

 

“Okay, okay, please don’t get upset,” Abby says gently, trying to bring back a sense of calm.  

 

“Abby,” a male voice calls out from the entrance of the building. “Is everything alright?”

 

Clarke looks over and recognises straight away the owner of the voice; her mouth drops open and her eyes go wide, “Are you kidding me?!” she shrieks at her mother. “You brought _him_ to Dad’s benefit?!”

 

Desperately Abby tries to reach out to her. “Clarke, you need to understand –’’

 

“Fuck you!” she cuts in and screams in her mother’s face. She then turns to face Marcus Kane and yells out “And fuck you too! You both deserve each other.”

 

Clarke storms off quickly towards her car. She picks up and buries her fists into the hem of her gown so she won’t trip over. As she gets into the car, her angry hands fumble with the seatbelt. Her mother calls out to her anxiously but Clarke hears none of it - just a roaring in her ears. More tears form in her eyes as she sets the car into drive and speeds out of the parking lot without a backwards glance. As she drives down the mountain into the awaiting darkness, she swears to herself that she’ll never return to Mount Weather again.

 

Ever.

 

\--------------

 

As Clarke’s car reaches the bottom of the mountain she feels her breathing return back to normal and the tight grip she had on the steering wheel has lessened. Her tears have stopped but they’ve left a mark of residue down her cheeks. The thought of her mother still with the man she had the affair with makes Clarke’s stomach roll in sickening waves and she can feel a burning sensation at the back of her throat. Shaking her head in determination, she refuses to let the overwhelming sadness and hurt suffocate her…again.

 

Mentally chastising herself, Clarke can’t believe she actually felt sorry for her mother tonight. Even between all the anger she had towards her, she had hoped that when she did see her for the first time that her mother would show either regret or remorse about what happened to her father; that his death actually affected her in some way. But seeing _him_ there, escorting her mother to the benefit honoring her father was like being stabbed in the heart; seeing him destroyed the hope and idea of ever making peace. In that moment Clarke’s life came crashing down _again_ and she now knows she has to face a new reality.  For the first time in her life, Clarke was truly alone. Even though she’d been by herself without any family in the last 18 months, her mother was still alive and was out there in the world, so there was always a possibility that they could reconnect in the distant future when it wasn’t as painful and the time apart helped to heal her wounds. But after the events of tonight, Clarke couldn’t see a way back from this, she couldn’t take any more heartache.

 

From her car window, Clarke sees that she’s finally back on the main road to Arcadia and sighs in relief. A heavy dense of trees and shrubs surrounds her on both sides - her car’s harsh headlights are the only ones cutting through the long and dark stretch of road. It’s almost 11pm and it isn’t unusual to have no traffic between Mount Weather and Arcadia at this time of night. And turning on the radio for some sign of human life is also out of the question - this road is known as a notorious black spot for having no reception.

 

Every inch of distance she gains towards Arcadia, Clarke’s angry thoughts drift away but it doesn’t do anything to relieve the heaviness in her heart. She feels a deep ache inside her chest; it isn’t the first time her heart had taken such a beating. The last time she had felt remotely like this was when she found Finn with another woman.

 

When she met Finn Collins a year ago, that night on the dance floor at the Ton DC nightclub, (the same night she met the almost bane of her existence Bellamy Blake), she thought he was cute, charming and sweet. They had danced and chatted for the rest of the night and then afterwards while waiting for a cab, he had gently pulled her against his body, with his hand cupping her jaw and leaned in to give her a sweet and lingering kiss. Following through on his promise, Finn had called the next day and took her out to lunch. Lunch then turned into drinks and then drinks turned into dinner. The day had been just what Clarke had needed, especially after the drama with Bellamy the night before and then finding an email from her mother that morning with a list of orientation times for Mount Weather University - which she chose to delete immediately. Clarke hadn’t felt so happy in a long time. From then on the two became inseparable.

 

Finn was always fun and looking for adventure and Clarke loved his energy and lease on life. He was a breath of fresh air against her past and rejuvenated her present. Plus as an added bonus he thought Bellamy was an ass too. Finn got along well with Octavia and Lincoln, and often joined the group when they were at the club drinking and catching up. Everything was going great for the first six months of their relationship and after much thought, consideration and seeking advice from Octavia, Clarke decided to follow her heart and take the next step with Finn. The day she decided to ask Finn to move in with her was the same day he broke her heart. 

 

\-------------------

 

_Stepping into the empty elevator, Clarke presses the button for level ten. Excited butterflies flutter in her belly as she looks down at the wicker basket in her hands, which is filled to the brim with all of Finn’s favourite foods. She can’t wait to surprise him. When she spoke to him last night on the phone, he’d seemed agitated and stressed, so Clarke thought that a romantic picnic just the two of them would be exactly what he needed. She also felt it would be the perfect opportunity to talk to him about moving their relationship to the next level. Living together was such a big step, but one that she wanted to take. Finn made her happy and he was a positive influence in her life, he supported her to be herself and follow her dreams. Clarke could only hope that she had the same positive influence on his life._

_The ding of the elevator and the opening of the doors in front of her brings Clarke out of her thoughts. Stepping out into the hallway she heads towards Finn’s apartment. As she reaches his door, Clarke can feel the excited flutters turn into rolling waves of nervousness and her palms start to sweat. She swaps the picnic basket to her other hand, takes a deep breath and knocks on the door. After a moment, Clarke hears a small commotion coming from inside the apartment, then a set of footsteps approaching. As she sees the door start to open, Clarke displays the basket high up into the air and calls out ‘Surprise!” Clarke’s happy face immediately turns into confusion and her mouth opens wide, but no words come out. In front of her is a gorgeous young woman with dark brown hair and the most athletic legs she has ever seen in her life, which just happen to be peeking out underneath a man’s button up shirt._

_The woman looks just as surprised to see Clarke there as she does. Speaking up daringly, the woman says, “Well you don’t seem to be delivering our Chinese food. Can I help you?” and she looks down at the picnic basket suspiciously._

_The woman’s question finally gives Clarke the ability to find her voice again. “I’m after Finn,” she says uncertainly; looking up at the number hanging on the door to make sure she has Finn’s apartment. Yep, she’s been to Finn’s apartment hundreds of times, she was definitely at his._

_The moment she brings her head back around to face the woman, an overwhelming and unsettling sensation begins swirling around in her belly and she feels all the color drain from her face. She looks at the woman closely, she now notices that the oversized shirt she’s wearing is one of Finn’s favorites. Clarke looks into the woman’s brown eyes as both of them seem to be expressing mirror images of emotion to each other. Together they come to the realisation of what’s going on right in front of them. Clarke looks away first, too upset to keep eye contact. “Oh my god,’ she whispers as a heavy weight drops in her belly and her eyes start to water._

_“How long?” The woman’s voice cracks._

_Clarke shakes her head in shock, no this can’t be happening, this is a mistake, it has to be -surely there has to be a reasonable explanation as to why this woman is in her boyfriend’s shirt and currently displaying crazy sex hair._

_“Raven, what’s going on? Who’s at the door?” Finn’s voice calls out and unknowingly adds to Clarke’s misery. As he moves into Clarke’s line of sight his eyes widen immediately – almost comically. If it was a cartoon and Clarke didn’t just have her heart stomped on she would have found it hilarious. But this was real life - her life and she knew that when she looked back on this moment she would be playing this scene in her mind over and over again for a long time._

_“Clarke?!” Finn gasps, “Why…how…I mean what are you doing here?”_

_The shock and hurt she feels can no longer be kept to herself. “I think the question should be Finn - what are you doing?” she sobs out._

_“It’s not what it looks like, Clarke,” He answers back desperately._

_“Excuse me?!” Raven yells, looking at Finn in astonishment. “It’s exactly what it looks like. I go away for a year for work under the pretence we’re still together and now I find you’ve been with someone else!”_

_Clarke blocks out the noise of Finn and Raven arguing and turns her head towards the hallway. She can’t believe what she’s just heard - she’s the other woman. Finn’s made her the other woman! The man she’s been in a relationship with for the last six months, who she’s in love with, who she was going to ask to move in with her, has been using her to cheat on his girlfriend. She feels sick as she puts a hand to her stomach, hoping to calm down the nausea. She wants to scream, she wants to cry, she wants to run away. Letting out a heart wrenching sob, Clarke drops the picnic basket and runs. Her legs feel like jelly as she dashes towards the elevator, which now looks like a safe haven. She ignores Finn’s pleas to come back, as the elevator door closes behind her. Once she feels the vibration of the elevator descending downwards, her wobbly legs give out and she sinks to the floor in despair. It feels like a lifetime when the doors finally open, but she pushes herself up, using the walls for support and makes her way outside. Clarke doesn’t remember walking to Octavia’s apartment which she knows is three blocks away. She doesn’t remember stepping into the elevator and knocking on Octavia’s door. She only remembers coming out of it when she feels Octavia grip her hard by the shoulders and shakes her in order to get a reaction from her. Once Clarke’s eyes focus on Octavia’s worried face, the pain comes flooding back and her face crumbles. “Octavia…” she cries as she falls into her best friend’s arms._

\-------------------

 

A single tear falls from Clarke’s eye as she still remembers the gut wrenching and all-consuming pain of Finn’s betrayal six months ago. Through Octavia’s gentle probing, Clarke shared everything about what had happened. Octavia was confused at first, then shocked, and then angry, so much so that Clarke had to beg her not to go over there and kick his ass. They spent the rest of the afternoon holed up in her apartment talking, over indulging on ice cream and watching horror films where the depicted female leads killed their lovers – Octavia’s insistence.

 

The weeks that followed were hell on earth - Finn texted her every day in that first week apologising profusely. Every message was different, they varied between telling her that he really liked her and then telling her that Raven was important to him as they’ve known each other since they were children and she’s the only family he has left. The final stab in the heart came when he admitted to Clarke that he wanted to choose her as he’s in love with her - but he couldn’t lose Raven. That afternoon, Clarke went out and got a new phone number. She didn’t want to listen to his apologies and excuses anymore. You can’t tell someone that you love them but you can’t chose them all in the same sentence. It all just made Clarke angry and she knew she wouldn’t be able to trust him again. She deserved better and her father deserved better - she could now relate to what her father must have been feeling that day when he found out about her mother. She would make him proud and move on with her life and try and be happy for the both of them.

 

Although Clarke prides herself in being determined and strong, looking back now, she knows that the main thing that helped her through that time was her friendship with Octavia. This whole mess with Finn actually brought them closer and made their friendship even stronger. Strong enough, that on the first anniversary of her father’s death, she decided to finally reveal her past to Octavia.

 

\-----------------------

 

_“You didn’t have to do this Clarke,” Octavia says as she looks around The Tree People Restaurant in appreciation._

_The restaurant is a cute and modern establishment in the heart of Arcadia. It gives off a humble atmosphere where you can relax and enjoy your meal with family and friends. Warm lights glow from the ceiling and a variety of colored photographs of different forest landscapes taken around Arcadia hang on the walls. Looking at them Clarke feels safe and at peace. She’s determined not to feel sad today and even though Octavia doesn’t know the reason why Clarke has chosen to take her out to lunch today, she knows that Octavia, unknowingly, will help her survive the day._

_“Of course I did.” Clarke replies back with a smile. “I don’t know how I would have gotten through the last few weeks without you.”_

_“I was only doing my job as your best friend.” She says shrugging her shoulders. “Besides I owed you after you spent two days helping me lean over a toilet bowl and holding my hair,” she adds with a smirk and takes a sip of her wine._

_Clarke lets out a small laugh. “Well although that’s true, I know I haven’t been the happiest person to be around lately –”_

_“Clarke, you got your heart broken by a man who lied to you and led you to believe that you had a future together. Stop being so hard on yourself,” Octavia tells her firmly._

_“I know.” Clarke looks down embarrassed. “I just feel bad bringing you down as well.”_

_“Will you stop it!” Octavia yells out in exasperation. Clarke looks around and notices a couple of their fellow diners look over to them with curiosity on their faces. Octavia either doesn’t realise her small outburst caused attention or she doesn’t care, as she continues on. “Friendship is not just being around for the good times, you know Clarke. It’s also being around for the bad times. In fact the way I see it, it’s the bad, shitty and depressing times of your life that you need your friends the most. Life’s not perfect, it can be full of drama and misery and you can’t control it. But supporting each other through the mess can actually bring people closer together, you know?”_

_Clarke lets the words sink in and gives Octavia a smile - it’s exactly what she needed to hear. Her words break through the last wall Clarke has held up around her heart. It’s finally time. She needs to open up about her past and where she comes from. She trusts Octavia explicitly and she agrees that friendship is not just a one way street._

_“Octavia - I want to tell you something… about my past and why I moved to Arcadia.” Clarke looks at her trying to show an air of confidence but, her voice waivers, giving away her nervousness._

_“Clarke, really, you don’t have to do this now. I wasn’t having a go at you before with my little speech, seriously. I know you’ve been keeping some things to yourself and that’s okay, that’s your business. I didn’t mean to guilt you. I know that you’ll tell me when you’re ready,” Octavia gives her a reassuring smile._

_“No, I’m ready.” Clarke replies determinedly and takes a sip of her wine before forging ahead nervously. “I just hope you don’t hate me at the end of it.” She thinks about Bellamy’s prejudice towards her due to the fact she’s from a wealthy Mount Weather family and has been hiding it. Being Bellamy’s sister, she hopes Octavia doesn’t carry around any unhidden prejudices against the people she came from._

_“I could never hate you, dummy,” Octavia teases her._

_With a deep breath, Clarke begins her story…_

\------------

 

In the end Clarke had no reason to worry about Octavia’s reaction. She was very understanding and supportive. She didn’t push Clarke into sharing anything she didn’t want to and she let her speak at her own pace, only asking the occasional question here and there. She was shocked and sympathetic when Clarke told her about her father’s death. Octavia also revealed she knew all too well about wanting to follow her own path and that she was proud that Clarke had found the courage to do that. A feeling of relief had flooded through her entire body and she felt like a huge weight had been lifted off her shoulders. She could breathe properly now for the first time since arriving in Arcadia. Revealing her past to Octavia had unlocked something inside her heart and Clarke felt her face light up with the biggest grin.

 

They’d ordered another bottle of wine and spent the afternoon sharing stories and memories of their childhoods with the people they had loved and lost. It had been bittersweet but Clarke was thankful for it. Towards the end of the afternoon, both of them had started to feel the effects of the alcohol coursing through their veins. They’d sat back and relaxed in the restaurant’s chairs - Clarke realised they were the only diners left. Looking over and studying one of the landscaped photographs hanging across from her, Clarke zoned out. She didn’t know how long she’d been staring at the endless shapes of the trees when she was pulled out of it by the sound of Octavia’s voice mentioning something about Bellamy and how she now understood why he’s been such a dick to her. Clarke had closed her eyes with a sigh, she didn’t want to be rude to Octavia, but she wanted to block out anything to do with Bellamy. She’d been happy and relaxed for the first time in weeks, she hadn’t wanted to think about him.

 

But of course, she had. Bellamy Blake was a walking contradiction. In the last year she thought she had him figured out. One moment Clarke believed he was a grouchy and arrogant ass - the one she met that first night at the bar, but then he would do something…unexpected that would make Clarke question his true character. It was an endless cycle and it was confusing and tiring. He filled her thoughts more than she’d like to admit, he –

 

Clarke is suddenly jolted back to reality by the car making an alarming sound, piercing through her thoughts. Looking down she sees that a red light has popped up on her petrol gauge. _Oh shit. How can I almost be out of gas?_ She thinks. _Because you were supposed to get some earlier today genius_ , a little voice in her head tells her. Clarke groans. With the nerves and anxiety about her father’s benefit and seeing her mother tonight she completely forgot to fill up the tank.

 

It’s alright she thinks to herself, she’s almost in Arcadia and there’s a gas station just on the outskirts. Clarke pushes her foot down on the accelerator, hoping to get there faster. “Come on, come on, you can do it,” she pleads with the car.

 

She was almost there, she could see the lights of the _Drop Ship Gas Station_ in the distance. “Yes, yes, yes,” she encourages the car. “Come on”.

 

Just as Clarke thinks she’s going to make it, the car makes a loud stutter. Quickly she turns the car’s wheels and steers to the side of the road. An instant later the car comes to a complete stop.

 

Clarke’s eyes widen. “No, no, just a little bit more!” she cries out and attempts to start the car again. It gives a soft pathetic stutter, then nothing.

 

In defeat, Clarke bangs her head on the steering wheel and groans. Lifting up her head she looks around at her surroundings - her headlights and the lights of the gas station in the distance are all that she can see in the stilled darkness. Thick dense trees still enclose the road and her car. She feels a shiver run down her spine – the whole situation is creepy. And even though she knows the answer already, she picks up her cell phone to check for service - nothing.

 

Coming to the understanding that she has no other options, Clarke opens her car door and hops out. Looking towards the gas station, she realises it isn’t too far away. She can walk it – even in her gown and heels.

 

Quickly leaning over her car’s console she grabs her gold clutch and shoves her phone into it, then walking around to the trunk she pulls out a small, red jerry can.  

 

Staring into the darkness, Clarke starts to feel uneasy, she wants to get out of here and quickly. With determination and fear pushing her along, Clarke begins to power walk. _It could be worse,_ she thinks. _At least my car stopped within viewing distance of a gas station. Hopefully the person working there can help and –_ _Oh shit, no!_ Clarke comes to a complete stop and her mouth opens wide in shock as she remembers an important fact. “Dammit,” she curses. _He’s_ _working there tonight. Like he does every Saturday night! Why me?_ She thinks and lets out an audible groan.

 

Clarke turns around to face the car. She has two options – she can go back to the car and wait there until another car passes by and then fingers crossed they aren’t a serial killer. Or she can walk to the _Drop Ship_ , fill up the jerry can and face the one person she really doesn’t want to see right now. She isn’t in the mood to argue with anyone right now, or to put up with anyone else’s shit. It was a tough choice. The car sitting in the middle of the road in complete darkness surrounded by trees was tempting, but after a moment she realises she’s being silly so she turns back around and heads begrudgingly towards the gas station. To see if _Bellamy Blake_ can help her. Clarke wonders if her bad night is only going to get worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked this chapter. I do apologise for the lack of Bellamy in this one. Its not how I originally intended it - but this chapter really had a mind of its own and I had to go with it. I promise Bellamy will be featured now until the end.
> 
> You can find me on tumblr at peetaspikelets


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am very sorry for the long wait on this chapter - truth be told, I started to lose inspiration for this one - plus mix that in with a lack of feedback/interest and I started to become disheartened. Thank you to those who have stuck with me - you have no idea how much I appreciate it :) I would like to dedicate this chapter to the sweet anon who sent me a message on my tumblr a little while ago - it was your message that finally kicked my butt into gear - and I've come back more motivated than ever - the next chapter is nearly completed :)
> 
> As it's been awhile I recommend going back and reading from the beginning - or at least from the last chapter, as we do skip around a bit in the past. 
> 
> Thank you so much sponsormusings for pre-reading and beta-ing this chapter for me :)

_If it hurts and you can’t take no more_

_Lay it all on me_

_No you don’t have to keep it under lock and key_

_Cause I will never let you down_

_And if you can’t escape all your uncertainties_

_Baby I can show you how_

_Let my love in, let me love in_

_Lay your heart on me._

 

_“Octavia. Are you in there?” Clarke calls out, and knocks on the front door again. Putting her ear to the door she can hear the distinct sounds of someone being sick. She grimaces in sympathy and reaches for the doorknob – it’s unlocked. Pushing the door open and walking over the threshold, she juggles a couple of grocery bags and heads to the breakfast bar. Dumping them unceremoniously, she observes the living room that’s connected to the kitchen. It’s in the middle of the day, but anyone would think it was late at night considering the darkness of the room. The shades are drawn and the only light is coming from the flicker of the television. Blankets and pillows are spooled out along the couch and a water bottle and an empty bucket sits next to the side table._

_“Hello?” a weak voice calls out._

_“It’s just me. I came to see how you’re going.”_

_“I feel like I’m dying,” Octavia groans as she comes out of the bathroom and slowly makes her way to the couch._

_Clarke observes her, noticing that she looks tired, pale and weak. Some of her dark hair clings to her forehead thanks to a thin layer of sweat._

_“Don’t say anything. I know I look hideous,” Octavia moans, trying to find a comfortable position amongst the pillows she has organised into a small mountain._

_“You don’t look hideous,” Clarke reassures her kindly. “You look like someone who’s got food poisoning.”_

_“That too,” she agrees softly. “I’m sorry I cancelled our plans, but you really didn’t have to come over. I told you on the phone I was fine.”_

_“I know you did, but you sure didn’t sound like it. Lincoln’s out of town and I’m assuming that since it’s Tuesday, you wouldn’t have told Bellamy you’re home sick because he has back to back classes. Am I right?”_

_Octavia manages to muster a small smile. “You know me too well. If Bellamy finds out he’ll insist on skipping for the day to take care of me. You know what he’s like.”_

_Clarke rolls her eyes. “Yeah I know what he’s like,” she mumbles under her breath. “It doesn’t matter anyway. I’m here so you don’t have to suffer alone. And besides I brought you some things,” she says, walking back into the kitchen and reaching for the grocery bags._

_“You better not have gone to too much trouble,” Octavia reprimands feebly._

_Clarke smiles to herself, no matter how sick and weak she is, Octavia will always try and fight you and tell you not to make a fuss. Searching through the bags, Clarke pulls out each of the items. “I got you some things from the pharmacy to help keep you hydrated, as well as a few magazines to help you pass the time,” Clarke says and holds up the glossy covers. “Plus I got a few ingredients from the market to make you a soup. Don’t worry its nothing too heavy,” she reassures. “It will keep in your fridge for a while so it’ll be good for you when you’re recovering.”_

_“The thought of food right now makes me want to hurl but if I had the energy right now, I would get up and give you a hug,” Octavia turns her head and smiles at her._

_“What are friends for?” Clarke grins as she brings the magazines over to Octavia and sets them on the side table._

_“Not this!” Octavia snorts._

_“Well just so you know I have doubled my fee for today,” she says with a laugh. “Alright, you just lay there and rest - let me know if you need anything. I’m going to go and start making the soup.” She heads back into the kitchen and pulls out a large saucepan._

_30 minutes later, Clarke is adding all the chopped up ingredients into the saucepan and is just about to put it on the stove when Octavia suddenly sits up - now fully awake from her dozing and trying unsuccessfully to reach for the bucket on the side table. Clarke, realizing her distress, rushes into the room, grabs the bucket for her and places it under her chin; she does it just in time. Clarke pulls Octavia’s hair out of her face and holds it back for her, away from the mess. After she expels everything she can Octavia leans over to pick up her water bottle. “You really don’t need to be here Clarke. I’m sure I’m scarring you, having you see me like this.”_

_“Don’t be silly. I work in the health field, if you think I haven’t seen worse than this then you are sadly mistaken,” she assures her and leans over to the side table, grabbing a bunch of tissues. Octavia lets out a soft sigh as Clarke dabs the sweat off Octavia’s brow._

_“I’m just gonna go to the bathroom and clean up a bit,” Octavia mumbles, standing on shaky legs and shuffling to the bathroom._

_Clarke looks around at the mess of tissues and pillows littering the living room floor and begins to pick them up. Suddenly she hears the jingling sound of keys and the door knob turning._

_“O, it’s just me. Are you home?” A warm and manly voice calls out and it’s all too familiar to Clarke’s ears. Shit. Bellamy stops in his tracks the moment he sees Clarke standing in the middle of the living room. A flash of shock courses across his face for a moment before he turns his mouth into a sneer. “What are you doing here, Princess?”_

_“Pleasant as always, I see,” Clarke remarks sarcastically. “What are you doing here?” She asks, purposely avoiding his question. _

_“I’m here to see O.”_

_“You don’t say? So am I,” she replies back smartly._

_“Cut the crap. Aren’t you supposed to be at some conference with Lincoln?”_

_“Nope,” she says, popping the ‘p’. During the first few weeks after their initial meeting, Clarke learnt that he was easy to rile up if you either ignored or didn’t answer his questions properly. Bellamy, she discovered, was one of those people who preferred the confrontation, the opportunity to argue and tell you exactly why you were wrong. He also liked nothing more than voicing his opinion, even if you didn’t ask for it._

_Clarke looks at his face now to see if she’s got him fired up - his pursed lips, narrowed eyes, and his arms crossed in front of his chest tells her she’s successful. Vagueness wins again, Clarke thinks with a smile._

_“Seriously, what are you doing here and where’s O?”_

_At that very moment Octavia cries out weakly, “Clarke, can you get me some water?”_

_“Not a problem, I’ll be right there,” Clarke calls out as she ignores Bellamy and heads to the fridge._

_Clarke watches him out of the corner of her eye as he surveys the room. She sees him take in all the mess that consumes the space and watches as his mouth turns into a frown. “What’s going on?” He demands more loudly._

_Clarke, continuing with her pettiness of ignoring him, heads towards the bathroom with a bottle of water. She can hear his huff of annoyance and heavy footsteps following her. As Clarke pushes open the door, her attention is immediately drawn to Octavia who is lying on the bathroom floor and looking even paler. Clarke quickly bends down to feel her forehead - she’s clammy, but not hot. Octavia reaches for the bottle as Clarke helps by raising her head so she can take small sips of the cool, refreshing liquid._

_“Oh my god, O. What happened? Are you alright?” Bellamy’s worried voice echoes through the bathroom, as he kneels down next to her and takes in her miserable and weak form. A moment later he lifts his head to Clarke and stares daggers at her. “What have you done to my sister?” He grits out in fury._

_“Are you serious?” Clarke asks in baffled astonishment._

_At the same time Octavia groans and says, “You’re an idiot Bell. I’ve got food poisoning. Clarke’s helping me.”_

_Completely ignoring the part about Clarke, Bellamy’s concerned voice hones in. “How did you get food poisoning?”_

_“These things happen, please don’t stress. I’ll be fine,” she says, taking another careful sip of water._

_“I think you owe someone an apology,” Clarke demands, staring daggers right back at him._

_“You’re right,” he says and turns his gaze softly back down to Octavia. “O, I’m sorry I wasn’t here to take care of you.” He tilts his head back and gives Clarke an arrogant smirk. “You happy?”_

_“You ass,” Clarke growls._

_“Please not now. Can’t you take a day off from the fighting?” Octavia begs. “I don’t have the energy or the patience to put up with this today. Save this weird-ass courting ritual you have for another day.”_

_Clarke and Bellamy both gasp, clearly offended by the insinuation.  Clarke can’t believe Octavia just said that - she’s about to argue her case on why them having any type of courting ritual is completely untrue and ridiculous, when she looks back down and takes in the current mess of her friend lying on the bathroom floor; she can’t do it. She doesn’t want to make Octavia feel even worse. She looks over to Bellamy and senses he’s coming to the same understanding as his expression softens. They share a look and then a nod between them which signifies a truce - at least for today. _

_“Now no more talking. Just let me sleep,” Octavia whispers and she begins to close her eyes._

_“You won’t be comfortable here. Why don’t we help you to the couch?” Clarke suggests gently._

_“She’s right. I’ll pick you up –”_

_“No,” Octavia cuts in, her eyes still closed. “I’m staying here, the tiles feel nice,” she mumbles, as she drifts off to sleep._

_As they both stand up, Clarke sneaks a glimpse over to Bellamy - he doesn’t look happy. “Once she’s in a deeper sleep we can move her over to the couch,” she suggests._

_He nods his head in agreement as they both make their way quietly out of the bathroom and head towards the kitchen. Bellamy gets a drink and Clarke turns the soup on to boil._

_“What’s this?” Bellamy asks, pointing to the saucepan and the grocery bags scattered about on the bench._

_It’s a simple question but out of habit Clarke looks over and studies him carefully. There doesn’t seem to be any animosity or underlying venom to his question. He actually looks genuine and curious. This is a first. It’s almost unsettling…_

_“I’m making Octavia a soup. Well, really it’s a broth,” she explains, picking up a large spoon and stirring the mixture. “She’s going to need something to keep her energy up and this will be easy on her stomach,” she clarifies as she feels him watching her._

_There’s a moment of silence and then Bellamy’s surprised voice cracks through softly, “You’re making her soup?” The words sound so vulnerable coming out of his mouth that Clarke turns back around quickly to face him. She’s amazed to see confusion on his face, like he’s questioning whether he heard her right._

_“Yeah, I went out and bought some ingredients,” she explains. She watches him carefully, to gauge his response. “I also went to the pharmacy and bought her some magazines too,” Clarke adds.  He still looks dumbfounded. “Is there a problem?” She’s not sure how to interpret his reaction. She’s never seen this side of Bellamy – a Bellamy stunned into absolute and utter silence. This has to be the longest time they’ve spoken with each other without an argument occurring. It’s new territory, so she’s on edge._

_“No.” His voice is hoarse as he finally speaks up. Clearing his throat quickly he adds, “There’s no problem. In fact…that’s nice of you.” And he gives her a small smile._

_Clarke’s eyes go wide for a moment in shock. Bellamy Blake, the bane of her existence, just smiled at her. She didn’t bump her head and pass out next to Octavia on the bathroom floor, did she? Turning her attention back to the soup, she starts to stir it again and suddenly feels self-conscious. She doesn’t know what else to say to him besides, “It’s no trouble.”_

_They stand in the kitchen in silence for a few awkward moments.  As Clarke continues to stir the soup unnecessarily, an idea forms in her head that maybe this could be a new beginning for her and Bellamy. It’s been fun in a way riling him up, arguing with him and pushing his buttons over the last five months, but to be honest it’s also been difficult and exhausting. She knows that if there was a possibility of stopping what they were doing and becoming friends she would take it. However since they’ve met Bellamy has never indicated that he wants to change things between them - but today might be just the catalyst that he needs. This could be their new start. Putting the spoon aside she turns the soup down to simmer and turns around to face Bellamy, who is leaning up against the opposite counter staring at her. There’s no animosity on his face, in fact, he seems relaxed._

_Clarke racks her brain trying to think of something to talk about, her mouth opening and closing a couple of times like a fish willing something to come out. “Have you ever had food poisoning before?” She blurts out and as soon as the question is out of her mouth she wants to curl into a ball and die. Seriously? That’s your question? She asks herself. Your first civil conversation between the two of you and you choose to talk about food poisoning?_

_Bellamy gives her a cheeky smirk and his eyes look at her in amusement - she wonders if he’s thinking the same thing she is. Regardless, he answers the question. “No, never.” And then after a beat he adds politely, “Have you?”_

_“Yeah - when I was 16; it was awful.” Clarke turns her face into a grimace as a memory of those couple of days pops into her head. She knows exactly what Octavia meant when she said she felt like she was dying - Clarke remembers that feeling all too well. “It’s not pretty, I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy.” Clarke tells him._

_“Well that’s good to know for future reference,” Bellamy grins back boldly._

_Before she can stop herself, Clarke lets out a burst of laughter, almost shocked at his reply. He made a joke – a joke at his own expense and now he’s giving her a small smile and she’s laughing. What weird alternate universe is this? Deciding to keep with the tone, she follows his lead. “Well what makes you think I don’t have another worst enemy?”_

_“There’s no one more suited for that job than me,” he says confidently in his deep baritone, and he crosses his arms matter-of-factly. However his eyes still show a slight sign of teasing._

_Clarke bobs her head in agreement. “You’re one of a kind that’s for sure.”_

_After a pause Bellamy asks, “So what gave you food poisoning?”_

_“Oh, an undercooked hot dog,” she says, blanching. “But obviously I didn’t realise that at the time and ever since then I can’t eat them.”_

_“Well I know what I’ll be shouting the group for lunch next time we’re out,” he tells her with a self-righteous smile, but the way it quirks up at the end tells her he’s still joking with her._

_“You’re an ass,” she says, but there’s no real malice behind her words._

_Bellamy looks over his shoulder back towards the bathroom and Clarke moves over to stand next to him. His gaze turns to worry as he watches Octavia, who hasn’t moved and is still asleep. He looks like the weight of the world is on his shoulders. Looking at him more carefully Clarke can see dark circles under his eyes. For someone who’s only 26, he seems much older. There’s wisdom behind those fiery brown eyes, but she can also see a lot of pain. In this moment she feels sorry for him and breaks the silence gently. “When I was sick I spent two days on the bathroom floor, but I was fine and Octavia will be too,” she assures him. “Try not to worry. She’ll be better before you know it.”_

_Bellamy’s gaze stays focused on his sister, but he gives a nod of his head acknowledging that he heard her._

_Walking back over to the soup she sees that it’s ready and begins pulling out a couple of plastic containers. A feeling of warmness flows through her body as she senses Bellamy watching her. But for the first time she feels like it’s not out of distrust but curiosity. It’s comforting. This is progress, Clarke thinks, smiling to herself. It’s like they’re still being their usual selves, but the fire behind their words is gone. It’s different. It’s nice._

_“So how’s spacewalker going?” He enquires, breaking her out of her thoughts._

_Clarke’s body tenses and her eyebrows raise in question, even though her back is still to him. What’s this about? “If you’re referring to Finn, then he’s fine. Why?”_

_“No reason,” he says. Although Clarke can tell he’s trying to sound indifferent. “He just didn’t come out the other night, when usually he follows you around like a pathetic puppy.”_

_“He does not and he was stuck at work,” she defends._

_“Hmmm I’m sure,” he scoffs. “He seems to be busy a lot lately.”_

_“And what’s that supposed to mean?” She turns to look at him now with a hand on her hip._

_“Nothing,” he shrugs like he has no interest. “I’m just making an observation that’s all.”_

_“Oh, come on! Since when do you ever keep your opinions to yourself - especially from me?”_

_“You’re right, Princess.” And his voice and eyes turn hard in a nanosecond. “I don’t.”_

_Clarke sighs in frustration, rolling her eyes at the nickname. He knows it riles her up. Great, we’re back here again, she thinks fuming to herself. Well that was short lived. Five minutes flat, and they’d done a full 360._

_“You want my opinion?  I don’t like the guy,” he states, folding his arms tightly across his chest, sneering in irritation. “I don’t trust him, I know he’s hiding something. No one’s that perfect.”_

_“You think everybody is hiding something – you think you’re a goddamn human lie detector, or something?!”_

_“I’m always right,” he fires back._

_“You’re not always right,” she yells back with frustration. “You’re a stubborn and judgemental asshole who uses his past experience and resources as a security guard to invade people’s privacy!”_

_Bellamy scowls, his hard eyes narrow as he takes a step towards her; she knows she’s hit a sore spot. “Speaking of liars,” he spits out. “Have you told my sister about your past yet?”_

_Clarke slams her hand down on the kitchen bench and takes a step towards him. Their bodies almost touch each other, only a sliver of space lies between them. She stares up at him intently, noticing his heavy breathing hitch the moment he meets her eyes. The bubbling anger between them is still simmering, but there’s a new electrified tension in the air now. He licks his lips and Clarke can’t help but suck in a breath with wide eyes. She thinks she’s falling into something she can’t explain - she feels what she did on the first night they met, the adrenaline rush of attraction that had filled her from head to toe._

_She quickly takes a step back from him and the tension between them breaks. Confusion begins to settle in. She turns her head away and gives it a shake._ _She doesn’t even want to think about her body’s ridiculous physical reaction to Bellamy. He’s still an ass who’s made her life hell over the past 5 months - when he’s not insulting her taste in television shows (who the hell doesn’t like Friends?) or ridiculing her leadership skills when a group of them went paintballing (her team still won), he’s bad-mouthing her boyfriend or continuing to ream her out about her past._

_She feels exhausted and wonders if she’s suffering from a serious case of whiplash thanks to his mood swings today. “We’re not getting into this again,” she says looking over to him._

_“What do you mean?” He looks puzzled, confused, as though he doesn’t know what just happened._

_“I mean you bringing up my past. We’re not doing this here. Actually we’re not doing any of this here,” she adds as an afterthought. “Your sister is sick and asleep on the bathroom floor.”_

_Bellamy winces and looks over to Octavia again, who’s still asleep and oblivious to what just happened between them, seeing her is like an immediate bucket of ice cold water dumped all over them - bringing them back to reality. Bellamy looks down to his watch and grimaces._

_Noticing his expression, Clarke asks, “Do you need to get back to class?”_

_“Yeah,” he says begrudgingly. “But I’ll email my professor and see if I can do my exam tomorrow. I need to look after O.”_

_“Don’t be an idiot,” she says coming to stand next to him, but with at least an arm’s length between them. Their short-term cease fire was definitely over. “You can’t just not turn up to an exam. Besides I’m here to help - that’s why I came over in the first place.”_

_Bellamy looks at her carefully; Clarke can’t decipher his expression or what he might be thinking. After a moment he agrees. “Okay, fine…thank you,” he adds._

_“I’m not doing it for you, I’m doing it for Octavia.” She says, but it’s not in malice, it’s just a fact._

_Bellamy nods like he’s acknowledging where they stand on the matter. “I’ll move her to the couch.”_

_“Thanks,” Clarke replies._

_“I’m not doing it for you, I’m doing it for O,” he repeats back walking to the bathroom. Once he places Octavia on the couch, he covers her up with a blanket and places a quick kiss on her forehead. He walks to the entry and picks up the things he dumped on the floor. Without looking back he opens the door and calls out, “See you round, Princess.”_

Just don’t let him get to you, just don’t let him get to you, Clarke repeats to herself over and over again, as she focuses on the dark road she’s walking on. She isn’t looking forward to seeing Bellamy again – her big problem with him these days is that even though he intrigues her with all his layers and mysteriousness, Clarke never knows what kind of mood he’s going to be in, not to mention how he’s going to react to seeing her tonight out of the blue. She’ll learn soon enough though, as the _Drop Ship Gas Station_ is getting closer and closer.  

 

Clarke looks down at her feet which are starting to ache - the high heels she’s wearing are gorgeous, but they aren’t practical for hitch hiking and they’re starting to turn on her. The diamante strap is digging into her toes, almost crushing them and the shoe itself is constantly rubbing against the back of her heel. Clarke knows she’s going to end up with blisters, but she pushes through the pain as there’s no way she’s taking them off. Walking in the dark she has no idea what’s lying on the road in front of her. The last thing she needs is to step on broken glass, dog poo or worse, some dead animal carcass – Bellamy would never let her live it down.

 

As she walks through the driveway entrance to the gas station her surroundings become clearer due to the building’s bright lights shining overhead. Through the window she can make out the unmistakable figure of Bellamy leaning over the front counter. She watches as he runs a hand through his curly mop of hair a couple of times. It’s pretty clear that while there’s no customers around he’s taking the opportunity to work on one of his papers, probably history - and knowing Bellamy, he’d be stressing over it unnecessarily. He’s a model student and watches the history channel for fun - not to mention his living room is like a mini library. He has an entire bookcase dedicated to Greek history and mythology alone. Not that Clarke makes a habit of going to his apartment – she went there once, and one time only, with Octavia when she needed to borrow some books for a class. Once was more than enough.

 

As Clarke gets closer and closer to the automatic doors she feels a shiver run down her spine and a sense of foreboding, like she shouldn’t be here. She feels her hands start to sweat thanks to her tight grip on her clutch and the jerry can. Stepping through the doors she psyches herself up - the quicker she does this the quicker she can go home, have a soak in the tub and snuggle up amongst the blankets in her warm bed and forget this night ever happened.

 

Clarke has never been to this gas station before; usually she goes to the one in the center of town. Stepping inside she notices that the interior is small and run down. The off white paint is peeling off the walls and she can hear the air conditioner giving a loud hum like it’s nearing the end of its life. The side wall opposite her is lined with a few fridges filled with cold drinks and next to it is a small counter with a coffee machine and a portable oven. Five small aisles are created in the middle of the store for easy access to other food and supplies.

 

Hearing the click of her heels on the dirty tiles, Bellamy looks up, momentarily startled. His eyes go wide as he looks her up and down. Clarke doesn’t know if it’s because he wasn’t expecting to see her or because she’s wearing an evening gown in a rundown gas station and sticks out like a sore thumb. As she gets closer to the counter, Clarke can see his eyes drift down to the jerry can in her hand and she immediately sees a flash of worry cross his face. However the moment is gone as quick as it came and he narrows his eyes, quirking his lips into a shit eating grin, “Hey Princess, you been taking a walk in the woods?”

 

Well hello _Mr Antagonistic,_ it’s nice to see you again, Clarke thinks to herself as she drops her clutch on the counter with a thud. After her confrontation with her mother, thinking about the disaster of her relationship with Finn and her car running out of gas, she’s not in the mood for any side of Bellamy Blake tonight. “Sure, I just did a brisk five mile walk and in heels no less,” she bites back, rolling her eyes. She wiggles the jerry can in front of him. “My car ran out of gas about half a mile down the road.”

 

“Oh dear Princess,” he replies condescendingly, “Don’t you know you need to check that you have enough gas in your carriage before you drive it?”

 

“Stop being an ass and just do your damn job,” she retorts and tries to hand him the jerry can.

 

“I’m a gas attendant, not Prince Charming,” he scolds and crosses his arms across his chest in a dominant stance. “And around here folks pump their own gas.”

 

“You’re not Prince Charming? Well ain’t that the truth,” she says sweetly. “Would you prefer Prince Man Whore instead? It has a nice ring to it.”

 

She watches as Bellamy’s nostrils start to flare and his ears turn red in anger. She knows it’s a cheap shot and not an entirely truthful one. The fact is she hasn’t seen Bellamy pick up a girl let alone take one home with him since around the time of her breakup with Finn. However a little voice inside her head tells her to keep going, even though part of her already hates the words that are about to fall from her mouth. “I’m sorry you have to spend your Saturday night here instead of between some walking STD’s thighs. I’ve been on the lookout for you, but unfortunately I didn’t stumble across any desperate woman on my walk here.”

 

“Like you can throw stones,” he sneers back. “The desperate Princess who hooks up with the first guy who shows any kind of interest in her.” He spits the words out and places his hands on the counter so he can lean towards her, his steely gaze now only a few inches from her face. “Tell me, when you look for a partner do they already have to be in a long term relationship with someone else or is that just a bonus?”

 

Clarke feels like she just got slapped and takes a step back. She should have known that Bellamy would throw her relationship with Finn back in her face at some point. She already feels guilty enough as it is. From her shocked reaction she immediately sees Bellamy’s face soften. He straightens himself up and moves away from her to stare out the window for a moment. “I’m sorry,” he mutters. “That was completely out of line.”

 

Clarke looks over to him in surprise. She’s never seen Bellamy apologise to anybody before, let alone her. “Since when do you care about that?” Clarke asks, trying to get the guilty and choked up feeling that is starting to rise in her throat out of her voice.

 

He turns back around to face her with a serious expression on his face. “There are some lines you just don’t cross. But I did and I’m sorry.”

 

Clarke looks at him carefully; he looks genuine and she can see remorse settling in his eyes. She takes a deep breath and gives him a small smile deciding to let it go. “I’m sorry too – I was out of line as well.”

 

Bellamy bobs his head in acceptance.

 

Breaking the awkward silence Clarke indicates to the jerry can. “I’m just going to go and fill this up,” she says softly.

 

Bellamy opens his mouth like he’s about to say something, but Clarke quickly turns away and heads towards the gas pumps outside.

 

She squats down next to a pump that’s standing opposite the window Bellamy is currently standing at. His head is down again most likely looking at his history books. Clarke bunches up the material of her dress, trying to put it behind her and in between her legs so she can do her task as easy as possible – the last thing she needs is gasoline on her satin dress!  She screws opens the lid of the jerry can, before rising to pick up the gas hose and sticking the nozzle into the can. Clarke watches the numbers move on the pump slowly, like they are testing her patience. Above her the florescent lights attached to the roof cover flicker on and off and a soft buzzing sound fills her ears. The ambience reminds Clarke of a memory and she feels her attention drifting off to a time three months ago.

 

_The loud and heavy bass of the music currently vibrating its way through the dance floor of the Grounders Club is almost hypnotic, the lights above flickering on and off to the beat. Clarke weaves her way through the throes of people who are dancing and sweating it up to a new song called ‘The City of Lights’. When the new singer – ALIE - comes strutting out onto the stage, Clarke knows she wouldn’t be interested in dancing to her type of music – and she’s right. Making her way over to the bar she hopes to find Octavia and Lincoln. She hates feeling like a third wheel to the inseparable couple, but she was desperate to get out and have some fun tonight. Although she’s still enjoying it, work has been challenging lately, but Lincoln is a great teacher and has been very patient with her which she’s grateful for. Bellamy has been hanging around with them on and off for most of the night. But she’s been steering clear of him as he’s been wearing a serious and annoyed expression on his face for most of the night, and she really doesn’t want to deal with him. She needn’t have worried too much though, as he’s been on the phone for most of the night or talking to Miller, one of the security guards currently standing at the club’s front entrance. From observing their interactions, they seem to know each other quite well. Clarke thinks they must know each other from when Bellamy was a security guard - he used to work for a high end company that trains and hires out security guards to establishments that need them._

_Stepping up to the bar, Clarke sees it’s absolutely packed with club goers wanting drinks. She sighs and moves herself over to the side of the bar where there’s some open space left next to a partition. She stands in front of it and hopes it doesn’t take too long for a bartender to notice her._

_“…Don’t tell O about this. I don’t want her worrying.” A deep and familiar voice utters behind the partition._

_Clarke’s eyes widen; even through the steady pumping of the music coming from the dance floor, she recognises the voice immediately. Bellamy. She doesn’t want to eavesdrop on his conversation, but she can’t help it when she’s right there in hearing distance. A part of her is also feeling concerned about the worry in his voice and the mention of Octavia’s nickname._

_“Don’t worry, I won’t say anything.” Another familiar voice answers. Lincoln. “But do you think it’s serious?”_

_“I don’t know - my old boss just thought I should know.”_

_Too absorbed in the conversation and trying to process what she’s hearing, Clarke doesn’t notice the bartender coming over to take her drink order. She quickly tells him what she wants and then leans back as close to the partition as she can without knocking it over in order to see if she can hear any more._

_“…I just hope the past doesn’t come back to bite me in the ass,” Bellamy states gruffly._

_“Here you go,” the bartender says loudly and hands her a beer. Clarke gives him some money and picks up her drink and tries to make her way around the bar. Suddenly someone knocks into her side and her drink almost falls out of her hand. As she tightens her grip on the bottle she feels a large pair of warm, strong hands gripping her hips to hold her steady. Looking up, she’s startled to see its Bellamy._

_He stares at her blankly for a moment like he wasn’t expecting her, but then the tight grip on her hips loosen and he takes a step back quickly, almost like he’s suffered an electric shock. His eyes narrow at her and then he looks behind her shoulder to the small area where she obviously just came from – right next to the partition. She can imagine his brain ticking over and coming to the conclusion on what she was just doing. His mouth immediately tightens in anger. “How long were you standing there, Princess?”_

_She’s afraid to give him an answer as she really doesn’t want to cause a scene in public but she knows she can’t lie, especially not to him – the guy who prides himself in being a human lie detector. “I wasn’t there long. I didn’t know what I was hearing,” she admits, looking up at him._

_Bellamy takes a step into her personal space, his hard eyes meeting her unsure and guilty ones. “Well, what you did hear, Princess, pretend that you didn’t,” he grits out and then pushes passes her, heading towards the crowd without a backwards glance._

_Clarke takes a deep breath to steady her nerves. She feels bad for eavesdropping - and truth be told she thought she would get a harsher lecture from him than that. Something is clearly off._

_“You okay?” The strong and kind voice of Lincoln asks as he comes and stands next to her._

_“Sure - I just had my regular weekly run in with Bellamy,” she smirks up at him. “Where’s Octavia?”_

_“Probably still in line waiting for the bathroom,” he chuckles._

_They both stare ahead, their eyes watching the club goers dancing and drinking away. Clarke can’t help it as her eyes immediately find Bellamy. His tall and muscular physique is hard to miss amongst a crowd not to mention his dark curly hair. Tonight he’s wearing dark denim jeans that hug his ass to perfection, a navy t shirt and a black leather jacket that highlights his broad shoulders. He may be an ass but Clarke knows an attractive guy when she sees one._

_“You know, he’s a nice guy.” Lincoln tells her as they both watch him talking to Miller again by the door._

_Clarke sighs. “You know you and Octavia have both been telling me that for the last nine months and I still don’t see it. Well, I mean, I think I’ve seen glimpses of it here and there…” she trails off, thinking about the time at Octavia’s apartment - the one time she and Bellamy had agreed on a truce for Octavia’s sake. They’d actually had a small civilised conversation, a nice one that had included smiles and laughs - things Clarke had thought would never happen between them – but then it all went to hell again._

_“I’m not saying it’s an excuse, but he’s had a tough life and he’s protected Octavia from a lot of it,” Lincoln explains._

_“No one would deny he’d win brother of the year, that’s for sure.”_

_Lincoln laughs in agreement. “That being said, I think he knows he needs to tone it down a bit and I do think he’s working on it.”_

_Clarke looks over at him and smirks. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”_

_Lincoln however, doesn’t answer her back. Clarke notices his eyes have suddenly narrowed and his jaw is firmly set. Clarke follows his line of sight – he’s staring at Bellamy and another man at the club’s entrance. The colored lights on the dance floor are still flashing on and off, so it takes a moment for Clarke to get her bearings and see who Bellamy is talking to. Clarke’s eyes widen immediately and her mouth lets out a surprised gasp._

_“Is that Finn?” Lincoln asks Clarke._

_“Yeah,” she confirms. What’s he doing here? She wonders._

_“How long ago was it that you broke up?” Lincoln asks._

_“Three months,” Clarke replies and brings her arms across her chest protectively._

_As they keep staring at the uncomfortable and surprising scene in front of them, Clarke notices Bellamy getting up into Finn’s face. He looks furious and is jabbing a finger into his chest. She has no idea what they’re saying to each other due to the loud music from the dance floor but Finn looks nervous, almost pleading. Bellamy doesn’t budge and just seems to get angrier. He must have said something to agitate him as the next thing she sees is Finn pushing Bellamy’s finger away and then giving him a quick shove. As Bellamy tries to regain his balance Finn uses the opportunity to move further into the club. She can see him moving his head from side to side like he’s trying to find somebody. Before Clarke can think of running to the bathroom in her continued refusal to see him, she suddenly sees Finn being flung back almost violently. Bellamy has his fists gripped into Finn’s shirt and he’s up in his face again. Clarke can see him spitting something to him as he pushes him out the entrance door, Miller right behind him as back up._

_Only a few people in the proximity notice the commotion, but are quickly diverted back to their own devices now that the disturbance and excitement is over. Bellamy and Miller walk back into the club a minute later alone. She sees Bellamy look up to where he left her earlier; their gazes meet briefly as he moves towards her. As he gets closer, she can see that his eyes have softened and his body doesn’t look as intense, but Clarke can still sense the lingering heat of anger vibrating off him._

_“I’m assuming you saw all that?” He asks standing in front of her._

_Clarke nods._

_“Is everything okay?” Lincoln asks, his tone serious._

_“Everything’s fine,” he assures. “He’s gone and won’t be coming back,” Bellamy looks to Clarke when he says this._

_There’s a few moments of silence and Lincoln uses it as an excuse to go and find Octavia._

_“You didn’t have to do that.” Clarke tells him._

_“The guys a low life cheating asshole,” Bellamy states angrily. “He had it coming - he shouldn’t be hassling you after what he did.”_

_Since the break-up Clarke wasn’t sure how much Bellamy actually knew about the demise of her relationship. She certainly wasn’t going to tell him and give him more ammunition to use against her. As she comes to the conclusion that Octavia must have told him, she quickly realises that Bellamy has not said one word or used anything against her in the last three months when it comes to Finn. What does that mean?_

_She feels a sudden warmth in her chest and gives him a tiny smile. “Thank you.”_

_Bellamy looks at her in shock for a moment, clearly not expecting to hear those words. He nods his head and gives her his signature smirk, but it’s more playful than anything. “You’re welcome, Princess.”_

The sound of the gas hose clicking off and the pump machine making a loud protesting sound brings Clarke back to the present. Shaking her head to clear it, she places the nozzle back in its place and screws the cap back onto the jerry can. Standing up she tries to smooth out the crinkles in her dress. She lifts her head just in time to see that Bellamy is watching her through the window. His face is relaxed and he has a small genuine smile on his face, one she rarely sees. It doesn’t last long though because as soon as he sees that Clarke is staring back, he puts his head down.

 

Walking inside, she can feel that the air between them has mellowed. She watches him pick up his text books and pile them on top of one another. She lowers the jerry can to the ground and reaches for her clutch, which she left on the counter. “So how much do I owe you?” She asks him.

 

“Don’t worry about it,” Bellamy tells her. “It’s on the house.”

 

“No, I couldn’t possibly let you do that,” she tells him, shaking her head and searching for some money in one of the inside pockets of her clutch.

 

“Please Clarke, let me do this,” he insists. “You need to catch at least one break tonight.”

 

She looks at him and he has that familiar determined look on his face. She doesn’t feel she should question it so she nods her head and gives him a smile in gratitude. “If that’s the case it means I have some money to buy some food,” she tells him. She just remembered she barely ate anything at the benefit tonight and she’s starving.

 

Bellamy gives her a cheeky grin. “Whatever the hell you want, Princess.” And he indicates the small oven sitting over to the side. “I think there’s still a hot dog sitting in there if you’re game.”

 

Clarke pulls a face and walks towards the back of the store, lifting her voice so he can continue to hear her. “I knew you would throw that in my face one day, that it was a mistake telling you my weakness. I’ll bet the damn thing isn’t even cooked, is it?”

 

Bellamy lets out a bellow laugh. “Well how about a bar of that _Dove_ chocolate you like so much?” She turns to look over her shoulder, her interest piqued, and he points to the last aisle. “It’s on the bottom shelf.”

 

Clarke’s eyes light up as she walks quickly to the aisle, her dress gently swishing from side to side. She’d been expecting Bellamy to make some kind of smart and sarcastic remark about the dress she’s wearing ever since she turned up – but nothing. So once again his actions surprise her. Clarke bends down to search for her favorite bar of chocolate – she’d come across it after their group finished paintballing one day. One bite and she was hooked – so much so that she had to go back and get another one. She’s quite surprised that Bellamy remembered.

 

“Hurry up so I can walk you back to your car,” Bellamy calls out.

 

Clarke’s hands stop searching the shelf and her brows rise up in surprise. “Um, you don’t have to do that, I’ll be fine,” she calls back, feeling triumphant as she finds her preferred flavor tucked behind the plain milk chocolate.

 

“I may not be Prince Charming, but I’m a man who isn’t about to let a beautiful woman walk back to her car alone in the dark,” he states firmly.

 

Clarke startles, barely able to catch herself before she falls back on her ass. Did he just say _beautiful?_ She wonders in shock, and she can’t help it when her lips begin to curl up into a smile. This night has definitely been a night of surprises. As she pulls out a couple bars from the shelf she hears the automatic doors from the front entrance open and a quick rush of heavy footsteps.

 

“DON’T MOVE AND PUT YOUR HANDS UP, YOU TRAITOROUS ASSHOLE!” A booming voice yells out - a loud shot is suddenly fired and she hears something smash.

 

Clarke’s body jolts at the sound and her eyes widen in fear. What the hell is going on? Still crouching down in her spot she tries to remain still and control her breathing, which is now coming out in soft short pants. She feels her heart almost beating out of her chest and blood rushing to her ears. She tells herself to calm down as she slowly and quietly eases her way to the end of the aisle and peeks her head out a fraction. She’s horrified to see a tall and bulky figure all dressed in black and wearing a balaclava – and she feels the terror fill her completely when he shifts slightly and she gets a clearer view of him. A clearer view of him, and the gun he holds, that’s pointing directly at Bellamy’s chest.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here it is - the final chapter. I know it's been awhile since I last updated and to leave it on a cliff hanger like that so I apologise. I had a lot of serious things to deal with in RL over the last couple of months that took up a lot of my time plus I was writing a piece for a charity event so this chapter took a back seat for awhile. But its here and ready to go and its my longest one yet - 11,000 words! A lot of questions will finally be answered!
> 
> Please note the trigger warnings for this chapter - violence, explicit language, robbery, attempted murder etc - so if these will effect you I advise you not to continue. 
> 
> Thank you to my pre-reader and beta Sponsormusings for being a wonderful support.
> 
> And most of all a big thank you to those who have reviewed, left kudos and followed this story. Its because of you that I had the motivation to finish it. This chapter is dedicated to all of you. Please let me know here or on tumblr what you thought of it.

_So if you’re hurting babe_

_Just let your heart be free_

_You got a friend in me._

_I’ll be your shoulder at any time you need_

_Baby I believe_

_You can lay it all on me._

 

_A gun?! A gun! Bellamy!_ The menacing man who’s just stormed the gas station, dressed all in black and wearing a balaclava, is pointing a gun at Bellamy’s chest! The thoughts go around and around Clarke’s mind over and over again like she’s listening to a broken record. Remaining where she is, she squats and hides in the back aisle, trying to stay as quiet as she can as the horrific scene unfolds a few feet away from her. She can’t believe this is _really_ happening; you hear stories about this on the news, but you never truly believe that it’s ever going to happen to you, or to someone you know. Sighing softly, Clarke lays her head in her hands, trying to take deep soothing breaths – _in and out, in and out_.

 

After a minute she’s able to gain a small sense of calm and begins surveying her surroundings, but all she can see are shelves filled with confectionery and a couple of fridges when she cranes her neck forward to see the far side wall. She’d thought the gas station was small when she first walked in, but now with the man holding a gun a few aisles away from her, the room seems to have shrunk even more – his presence reverberates in every nook and cranny and there’s a foreboding chill in the air that’s causing goosebumps to rise on her skin. She doesn’t know how long it’s been since the man came raging in. It could have been minutes or it could have been hours. But what she does know for sure, without a doubt, is that Bellamy is in serious danger.

 

She swallows the fear rising in her, and crawls as silently as she can to the end of the aisle, her thighs that had been burning from crouching so still now appreciating the movement. She sneaks a peek out from behind the shelf, taking in the confronting scene and listening quietly to the man’s intimidating voice. “Don’t even think about hitting that alarm,” he says, waving his gun about, indicating for Bellamy to move. “Now take a step back from the counter and keep your hands where I can see them.”

 

Clarke can’t see Bellamy, it’s the hulking man in her line of vision. After a second, a loud, crunching sound like breaking glass reaches her ears. “Well there goes the remnants of your security camera,” the man chuckles darkly. “I think security is really lacking here don’t you agree?” He taunts.

 

Clarke looks up, noticing the left wall behind the counter now has bits of wiring and casing hanging precariously. That must have been what caused the loud sound when he first walked in – he’d shot out the security camera. The nauseating feeling that had begun when the man first walked in is now starting to twist itself into knots in the pit of her stomach. This was no random act – this was planned.

 

With a quick swing of his arm, the man suddenly pushes all of Bellamy’s text books that he’d stacked up on the counter earlier. They land with a loud thud onto the floor, splayed out carelessly on the tiles. “ _Gods and Heroes of Ancient Greece_. You gotta be fucking kidding me,” he says, sneering down and spitting on the covers.

 

The man then takes a couple of steps to the side, allowing Clarke to finally get a full view of Bellamy. He’s standing up against a block of white drawers with his arms raised in the air, level with his shoulders. Her eyes scan over every inch of him, trying to assess any signs of distress or injury. To her sheer and utter relief he looks unharmed. In fact, Clarke thinks he looks…indifferent and even a little bored. _Oh no, what are you up to Bellamy_? _Please don’t do anything stupid_.

 

“I’ve been waiting a long time for this,” the man reveals gruffly.

 

“I can’t say the same,” Bellamy answers back coolly.

 

“You’ve always been an asshole,” the man throws back with a scoff. “Now shut your fucking mouth and get over there and open up the register,” he demands.

 

She watches as Bellamy stands there frozen, his features clouding with confusion.

 

“NOW!” He yells, pointing the gun at Bellamy’s head in a threat. “Put the money in this,” he orders, throwing an empty backpack at him.

 

Through anxious eyes, Clarke continues focusing all her attention on Bellamy. She watches as he slowly opens up the register and begins filling the bag with cash – while he does so, the burly figure uses his other hand to hastily stuff packs of gum into the back pocket of his tracksuit pants. His head is slightly down, but his gun is still trained on Bellamy.

 

She sees Bellamy raise his eyes slightly off his task and narrow them in the direction of her last known whereabouts in the store. His wide brown ones meet her worried blues ones instantly. He gives a slight shake of his head, his lips forming a firm and commanding line. She knows Bellamy’s protective personality well, as she’s witnessed it enough times in the last year when it comes to Octavia. With the looming threat they’re now facing together she knows immediately what he’s trying to convey to her – _move back behind the shelf and stay there!_

 

“What’s this?” The man spits out gruffly, unknowingly cutting off their silent communication. Bellamy coolly looks over to the masked man. “Who’s is this?” He demands, his voice getting louder as he holds up the clutch that she’d left on the counter.

 

Clarke manages to suppress a horrified gasp as her hand covers her mouth and she manages to quickly twist her body around so she’s back behind the safety of the shelf. Placing her other hand across her chest, she feels her heart beating frantically underneath her palm. _Oh my god, oh my god_.

 

“It was left here earlier,” Bellamy replies with a calm and steady tone. “I was going to take it to the police station on my way home.”

 

“Well aren’t you a fucking boy scout,” the man ridicules. “Unfortunately for you, that won’t be happening. I have other plans.”

 

Clarke’s eyes go wide in alarm at his words. _Oh my god, what does he mean by that? Please don’t let it mean what I think it does._ Shaking her head, she wills the terrible thoughts to leave as her eyes begin to prick with tears. She doesn’t know what to do to get them out of here, she’s never felt so helpless in all her life. The only thing they’ve got going for them is the element of surprise, but just looking at the guy’s muscular physique, she knows he would overpower her smaller frame within seconds. If they’re going to get out of this she needs to get her hands on something she can use as a weapon.

 

With a plan starting to formulate in her brain and renewed determination flowing through her veins, Clarke slowly crawls up to the other end of the aisle, being careful not to make too much noise. Looking up, she takes in every item that’s sitting perfectly displayed on the shelves, hoping desperately that something will stick out so she can use it to protect herself and Bellamy. She knows he told her to stay put, but with a threat looming over him like that, he can’t expect she’ll just sit back and do nothing; that’s not in her nature, she’s a fighter and stubborn as hell. Besides, since when has she ever listen to Bellamy Blake? Reaching the end of the aisle, she stops, trying to crane her neck forward so she can see some of the other items hanging in the next aisle. Biting her lip and psyching herself up to move she hears a noise like shuffling coming from the front counter. Then out of the blue, a hard and menacing voice says her name. _Clarke._ It makes her freeze on the spot and she begins to panic.

 

“Clarke… Griffin…” the voice repeats, like he’s trying to memorise it.

 

_Shit! He’s found me! How does he know my name_?! Clarke quickly swings her body around expecting to see the hulking man standing behind her - but he’s not there. She’s still alone in the aisle.

 

“100 Tree Line Way, Arcadia. Apartment 4A…”

 

_Oh my god! He’s going through my clutch. He’s found my license – he knows where I live!_

 

“…pretty girl, I might have to pay her a little visit,” he chuckles darkly, and the sound sends a shot of fear straight to her heart. A sudden smashing sound brings her out of her thoughts and a second later a jeering voice yells out, “Hey! Watch what you’re fucking doing and hurry up with that bag.”

 

She overhears more shuffling and a few items falling to the floor, but Clarke doesn’t dare to sneak another glance. She can imagine by the man’s constant footsteps on the tiled flooring that he’s pacing around a bit; his breathing is getting heavier and harsher as he mouths the odd taunt to Bellamy. It’s clear by the hurried and callous tone of his voice that he’s getting agitated.

 

After a minute of eerie stillness she hears a fridge door opening, the sound of bottles rattling and then the door closing swiftly. The quiet lingers in the air with a sense of foreboding, she doesn’t know where he is and what he’s doing. But then it all happens at once; she hears the air conditioner kicking back on with a loud groan, a bottle smashing and a surprised, gruff, voice yelling, “Hey!” She knows that voice doesn’t belong to Bellamy and immediately thinks that perhaps he’s somehow managed to sneak up behind the man and overpowered him. But that doesn’t explain the rush of footsteps coming closer; she only has a second to realise that the noise is heading her way before the man rounds the end of the aisle she’s been hiding in. Her shocked blue eyes meet his icy blue ones from underneath the balaclava. On instinct she quickly jumps to her feet but her heels trip over the hem of her dress, causing her to stumble into a shelf; his cold hand brushes against her shoulder and she lets out a scream. Running as fast as she can she heads in the direction of where she last saw Bellamy, but the man’s too fast for her, too pumped up with adrenaline - or something else in his system - that he reaches her in no time, grabbing her and wrapping his strong forearm across her chest and pulling her roughly up against the front of his body. She catches a whiff of cigarette smoke before she feels the cold metal of the gun’s muzzle dig into her temple.

 

She looks straight ahead with wide, terrified eyes, watching as Bellamy races towards them. But it’s like she’s in a dream because he’s moving towards her in slow motion, and everything is hazy, out of focus. She blinks a few times hoping to clear her head and to focus on the cold feeling of the gun against her head, but her body is going into shock, protecting itself by making her world and everything in it slow down. But although she’s slightly dazed, she manages to take notice of the many familiar features of Bellamy Blake; hair that is ruffled and sticking up at the sides, the strong outline of his chest and his arm muscles shifting underneath his shirt - but it’s the blazing look in his eyes that captivates her the most. They’re overcome by a fiery heat that she has never seen before, not even on their worst days of fighting. It’s the scorching intensity on his face and him bellowing out, “NO!” that brings her mind back to normal speed. After what feels like an eternity, he stops a few feet in front of them. “Let her go,” he demands and she can see his hands have formed fighting fists at his sides.

 

The man tightens his grip on her, letting out an amused chuckle; he’s clearly not threatened by Bellamy’s display. Clarke feels his hot breath fan over her ear and she has the sudden urge to vomit. She tries to turn her head and recoil away, but he has her pressed up against his body with a deathlike grip and the gun is still sitting on her temple; the blood pulses furiously at the point under the skin, matching the beating of her heart. Her forehead is beaded with a light sheen of sweat and her breathing is coming out in quick, harsh pants. She can’t deny it, she’s terrified and she has no weapon to even try and defend herself with. “Nice of you to join the party, sweetheart,” he cackles. “You almost got away with it too - shame I saw your reflection in the fridge door.”

 

“Just let her go,” Bellamy repeats, hissing through gritted teeth.

 

The man completely ignores his demand, continuing to talk to Clarke, and murmuring in her ear in a taunting manner, but still loud enough for Bellamy to hear every word. “You didn’t have to dress up for the occasion you know, _Princess_. But I like that you did,” he tells her, and sticks out his tongue, running it across the shell of her ear.

 

The feel of his cold, wet tongue on her skin repulses her and her stomach clenches in response. She doesn’t want to give him the satisfaction that he’s getting to her, but she can’t help but let out a tiny whimper.

 

“Don’t fucking touch her!” Bellamy shouts as he takes a step towards them. She can tell by his stiff posture and the flare of his nostrils that he’s trying hard to maintain control, and that if there wasn’t a gun involved he would have already pulled him off her and had him face down on the ground. “AND DON’T YOU DARE CALL HER THAT NAME!” He adds, spittle flying from his mouth from the force of his words.

 

Clarke’s eyes widen in surprise at his extreme outburst. Trust Bellamy not to cower when he’s faced with mortal danger, she doesn’t know whether to be proud or think he’s being a stupid ass. She can’t believe he got _that_ upset over the nickname. _Princess._ Why?

 

“I’ll call her whatever the fuck I want!” The man argues back and Clarke feels the cool steel of the gun leave her temple. But her relief is short lived because he quickly turns the gun and points it back at Bellamy chest. His arm is straight, steady and doesn’t waver – but neither does Bellamy.  

 

“No! Please don’t,” Clarke begs, trying to break up the standoff and move the attention back onto herself.

 

The man scoffs in exasperation. “Don’t tell me you care for this guy? Do you even know him? Do you know he’s a lying, traitorous asshole who’s only out to save his own skin?”

 

“I…” She doesn’t know what to say. Clearly this man knows Bellamy, but she’s not about to focus and address that right now. “Just please let us go, you have your money,” she gasps out, struggling against the strong weight of his forearm against her chest. “You still have your mask on - we don’t know who you are - you can just leave.”

 

The man lets out a sharp exhale and she smells his putrid breath brush across her face. “Well, for you, Princess, I wish it could have been that simple. But robbing this place wasn’t my only plan for tonight.”

 

“What…what was your plan?” She chokes out, terrified of his answer.

 

“To kill Bellamy Blake,” he tells her simply, the words flowing easily from his mouth, without shame or remorse. He takes a threatening step towards Bellamy, the gun still pointed at his chest and drags Clarke along with him. With all her might, she tries to dig her heels into the dirty tiled floor and starts to scratch at his forearm, all in order to hinder his movements; but his hold on her is too tight and she winces. Even through his clothes, she can feel his arm muscles strain and easily defeat her protests. They stop straight in front of Bellamy, whose face is still hard, but Clarke swears she sees his eyes flicker for a moment in fear.

 

“Please don’t kill him,” she pleads. “I’ll do anything.” The words come out automatically, without rhyme or reason, but she knows she means them with all her heart. Bellamy might not be her favorite person but after knowing him for a year, she can’t imagine her life without him in it – his snark and all. He doesn’t deserve to die and if she can stop it, she will. Bellamy looks over at her, the stony look on his face has dropped and it’s been taken over by shock. He’s clearly stunned by her words and the fact that she would put herself in harm’s way to save him. His features soften and turn into something like awe. She swears she hears him murmur, “Brave, Princess,” with a tone she doesn’t recognise.

 

Before she can try and process what his tone means, the moment is gone and Bellamy turns to the man placing a fixed and resolved look on his face. “I’ll do you a deal, let her go, and I’ll stay. You can do whatever you want with me.”

 

“Bellamy, no.”

 

The man says nothing, allowing Bellamy to continue stating his case. “She doesn’t know who you are; she doesn’t know a name and hasn’t seen your face. You could just disappear, it’s that simple.”

 

“Please don’t do this,” she chokes out to him.

 

“Cl…Clarke,” he whispers, as he shifts his gaze back to her, his tone revealing an underlying pain. Her eyes widen in surprise; not at just his vulnerability, but at the fact that in the year they’ve known each other not once has he ever called her by her real name. It’s always been Princess or Griffin. Despite the situation, Clarke is mesmerised by the way her name just fell from his tongue, all low, desperate and throaty; she doesn’t think she’s ever heard anything so agonizingly beautiful. “Let me do this,” he tells her.

 

She shakes her head, the moment gone as quickly as it came. “I’m not going to leave you alone with this man - especially one that wants to kill you,” she tells him intensely. “And if you think I would, then I have to say I’m offended.”

 

Bellamy’s features transform into frustration. “Oh my god, Clarke! I’m trying to save your life here. Why do you have to be so stubborn?!”

 

Before she can relay a smart reply they’re both cut off by a booming voice. “OI! Shut the fuck up, the both of ya’s!” To make his point he swiftly moves the gun back onto Clarke, shoving it under her chin causing her to let out a hiss of pain. “You both act like you’re running this show. Oh no, I don’t fucking think so,” he snarls, his voice getting angrier by the second. “I have the gun, I’m the one in control.” To prove his point further, he rearranges the nozzle of the gun so it sits on her far cheek and forces her head to turn and look up at him. “You both aren’t going anywhere. There’ll be no witnesses,” he tells her and then he twists his head around to look back over at Bellamy. “You hear that Blake? You and your little Princess aren’t going anywhere,” he sneers with an edge of finality.

 

A moment of silence goes by where Clarke and Bellamy let his threatening words sink into their very souls. Despair and coldness travels through the air that not even the thickest and warmest blanket could hold off. The occasional heavy breath or wince from Clarke when the gun digs into the soft pillow of her cheek breaks the piercing silence and is wondering hopelessly what their next move will be when Bellamy decides to speak up.

 

“Well, if that’s the way things are going to go down,” he takes a step towards them, his focus entirely on him. “Take off your mask. I want to see your face… Dax Shepherd.”

 

A surprised gasp escapes Clarke’s mouth. She wondered if Bellamy knew who this man was, but she didn’t think that he’d be bold enough to bring it up and announce it. Now that everyone’s identities are all out in the open, she considers herself and Bellamy officially doomed.

 

The man lets out a boisterous laugh that makes his chest rumble and vibrate against her back. “Well, I’m talking to two dead people anyway, so why not?” He announces cockily, unwrapping his arm from Clarke’s chest. She immediately feels instant relief, like a huge weight has been lifted. “Move over there,” he demands, pointing his gun to indicate a couple of feet away from him. “Keep your hands where I can see them.”

 

Clarke has never been so glad to move in all her life. Now that she has some space between this _Dax Shepherd_ and his gun, she feels like she can breathe again – at least a little. She stares up at him, keeping her hands in front of her so he can see them. A few feet across from her she swears she hears Bellamy breathe out a small sigh of relief.

 

“If one of you tries to run away, I will shoot the other one on the spot. Do you understand?” Dax asks cruelly. Neither of them make an attempt to move as his intention is clear. With the gun still pointing at Clarke, he uses his other hand to lift the balaclava off his head, throwing it unceremoniously onto the ground. He looks back at them with a snarky grin. Clarke’s eyes widen, taking in his features immediately; light brown hair, a sharp oval face and a large nose. But what stands out the most is the hardness in his eyes. When she first saw them, they were a surprised icy blue, but now they’re filled with determination and ruthlessness. It’s clear in the way he’s looking at them, taking each of them in, that he won’t be merciful. This causes the already hot, sick feeling that’s sitting in the pit of her belly to start rolling in waves. It would take an absolute miracle for them to get out of this alive.    

 

“Well, I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that you picked up it was me?” Dax tells Bellamy, smoothly.

 

“As usual, you don’t think before you act,” Bellamy, snidely replies. “I could tell it was you the moment you walked in and shot out the security camera. You always had a cockiness about you during armed robberies.”

 

“Yeah, well, you should know since you worked with me on one of them.”

 

“WHAT?!” Clarke cries out, not thinking about the gun currently pointed at her. She can’t hide her shock and horror at this new revelation. Surely, this can’t be right, she had to have heard wrong. Bellamy Blake is a lot of things, but he’s not a criminal – is he? Does Octavia know anything about this? With stunned eyes she turns to him. “Please tell me what he just said isn’t true?”

 

“Clarke, it’s not what it sounds like, I –”

 

“Ahh, what have we here, Blake? Have you been keeping secrets and lying to people?” He takes a step closer to Clarke. “I told you before Princess, he’s only out to save his own skin - always has and always will. You can’t trust him,” Dax tells her, his eyes glinting.

 

“SHUT UP!” Bellamy’s voice booms towards Dax, his face distorted in anger. “You’re twisting everything that happened, you lying scum bag!” He glances towards Clarke with a desperate look upon his face. “Please don’t believe _anything_ that comes out of this asshole’s mouth,” he begs. “I know I’m a lot of things; I’m argumentative, cruel and in your words an _ass_ , but I’m not a criminal – please believe me.”

Clarke’s confused eyes meet his; the brown of his irises have softened, reminding her of warm honey dew, and they’re pleading for her to believe him. His shoulders are sagged and his hands are up, like they’re wanting to reach out and touch her. Clarke has never seen this man before - he’s worried and desperate and she immediately believes him. Her eyes alleviate in response and she gives him a small nod. Bellamy exhales loudly in relief, his mouth curled into a grin. If it wasn’t for the circumstances, Clarke would think it was the most beautiful smile she has ever seen.

 

“Damn. So close,” Dax taunts, pointing the gun back over to Bellamy. “It would have been the final nail in your coffin by turning your _friend_ against you,” he laughs. “But as always you’re the King of manipulation, right? You can make people believe anything you want.”

 

“Well I certainly made you believe I wanted in on your shady deals, didn’t I?” Bellamy goads. “That I could help you and your buddies with my expertise at background checks and strategic experience,” he adds, letting out a sarcastic laugh. “The joke was certainly on you, Shepherd.”

 

She can see on Dax’s face the moment Bellamy’s words make an impact. “Shut the fuck up, Blake,” he yells, storming over to Bellamy and grabbing him by the shirt, shoving the gun under his chin. Clarke looks on in horror – is this it? Is this the moment Bellamy Blake dies and is out of her life forever? “You ruined my life, Blake,” Dax hisses out. “Because of you, my friends and I got sent to prison, you –”

 

“You brought it on yourself,” Bellamy shoots back, trying to manoeuvre himself out of Dax’s grip. “Did you really think you weren’t going to get caught? You were sending inside information on the places we guarded to your little gang,” he spits out ludicrously. “The pattern was so obvious. If you thought you were being clever, you’re more of an imbecile than I thought.”

 

“You bastard!” Dax screams, swinging his arm back before forcefully hitting Bellamy across the face with the butt of the gun. The heavy blow causes Bellamy to lose his balance and keel over. Dax uses the opportunity to his advantage and sends a swift kick to Bellamy’s ribs.

 

Clarke watches in dismay as Bellamy curls himself into a ball as Dax keeps kicking him. She looks around quickly at anything that could help her get Dax off him, but there’s nothing. All rational thoughts leave and her protective nature and adrenaline kicks in when she sees Dax crouch down and throw a punch, landing on Bellamy’s jaw and causing him to cry out. She doesn’t think, she just does. Hurling herself onto Dax’s back, she shouts, “Get the hell off him!” Her tiny fists beat down on every surface she can reach. She knows she can’t physically do too much damage to him, but she’s hoping she can at least distract him so Bellamy can get up. Her plan works and he starts backing away from Bellamy, swinging his body from side to side in order to throw her off his back - it doesn’t work. Instead she circles both her forearms around his neck, and both her legs around his waist, and hangs on tight. Through the chaos she manages to get a glimpse of Bellamy behind Dax’s shoulder. He looks pretty beat up, with a cut under his left eye, a trickle of blood coming from his nose and several purple bruises mixing in with his freckles, taking refuge on his sweaty olive skin.

 

“Argh! You bitch!” Dax shouts, as Clarke loosens her grip to use her nails to scratch at Dax’s cheek. Instantly he grabs her hand and using all his force, throws her off his back onto the ground, shock reverberating through her spine. Clarke lets out a loud cry of pain, shocked by his strength, she knows she’ll bruise immediately. But she doesn’t have time to waste, and tries to get up, but with a gown and heels on it’s a challenging feat. As soon as she gets up unsteadily onto her feet, he immediately reaches for her arm and grips it tight. She swivels herself around to look at him and is pleased to see that his face is filled with rage and his cheek is covered with four long distinctive cuts. “You’re more trouble than you’re worth,” he grits out and before Clarke can try and shield herself, his fist comes out of nowhere and pummels straight into her stomach, successfully knocking the air out of her lungs. She lands on her back with a sharp gasp, instantly finding it difficult to breathe. She clutches her stomach as she tries to crawl away. Looking over her shoulder, wondering what he’s going to do to her next, she sees him pick up the gun that must have fallen to the floor in their scuffle. Dammit, she didn’t realise he had lost his hold on it; she should have tried to reach for it. She looks up at him just in time to see a taunting look taking over his face, his eyes glinting in triumph. “It’s a shame Princess, we could have had so much fun together,’ he says, aiming the gun at her. “I’ve never believed in fairy tales and it looks like you won’t be living happily ever after.” Then he cocks the gun.

 

Clarke freezes at the sound; the barrel is staring back at her and holding her in place. Her brain screams at her to move, even if it’s in vain, but her body won’t cooperate. She can’t do anything besides hear the sound of blood pounding through her ears in panic. She closes her eyes and waits for the end, hoping it will be quick and painless. At that moment she’s accepted her fate and prays that Bellamy will use this chance to get himself out of here. But then from somewhere that feels far away, she hears a loud roar and a familiar, hoarse voice screaming, ‘NO!”

 

The ear-splitting sound of a gun goes off and she waits for the impact; the pain and her own scream, but it doesn’t come. She doesn’t feel anything besides hearing a small crash and the sound of something falling off the shelf next to her. She quickly opens her eyes and sees across the room the two men scuffling violently on the ground. She looks down at her body, surprised that she can’t see any blood - she wasn’t shot. Besides some ringing in her ears and the ache in her stomach from Dax’s earlier assault she feels physically fine.

 

The grunting sounds and occasional curses coming from across the way forces her out of her daze, as she takes in the chaotic scene in front of her. Bellamy has been slammed onto his back with Dax positioning himself on top, taking swing after swing; his fists plummeting into Bellamy’s torso like he’s a punching bag. 

 

“He’s going to kill him,” she whispers to herself fearfully.

 

“CLARKE! Get out of here!” she hears him manage to cry out, followed by a painful groan as a blow lands on his face.

 

“You’re dead, Blake!”

 

Through teary, hopeless eyes, she knows their time is running out. Still on the ground, she twists her body around so she’s now facing the counter and looks about helplessly at anything that could help her. That’s when she sees it - the jerry can, _her_ jerry can that’s currently filled with gas and is still standing next to the counter apparently untouched. Her eyes light up and she lets out a small sound of exclamation - with the weight of the gas filling it, she could use the can as a weapon. With a renewed rush of adrenaline and determination, she pulls herself to her feet and runs as fast as she can to grab it. Using both her hands, she tries to get familiar with the heavy weight as she initially stumbles under it, and heads towards the scuffling men. Dax doesn’t seem to notice her presence behind him, being too busy wrapping his hands around Bellamy’s throat. She’s not a violent person, but she has no choice but to do this; Bellamy’s life is in her hands. With that resolve, and using as much strength as she can muster, she lifts and swings the can as hard as she can, aiming for Dax’s head. The impact knocks him off Bellamy immediately, falling to the ground in shock and holding his head in a daze. She hears Bellamy’s harsh relieving breaths as he tries to suck air back into his lungs. It’s like sweet music to her ears and she’s never felt so grateful and relieved in all her life. “You’re okay,” she chokes out, bending down next to him, her hand finding its way uncharacteristically in his hair and stroking it. She steals a quick look over to Dax who is still on the ground a few feet away from them; he’s still in shock, wondering what just happened. Clarke’s happy when she realises the gun has been scuffled away under a shelf – Dax must have dropped it when he’d launched himself at Bellamy.

 

“I’m going…to get you…Blake,” Dax manages to spit out. Even through the pain he’s obviously feeling, Clarke can sense his thirst for revenge showing itself again.

 

With a grimace Bellamy pushes himself up into a sitting position and with gentle hands he moves Clarke behind him. Before she realises what he’s doing she sees him reach for the jerry can, rising to his feet and then with all his strength, slams it back down onto Dax’s head, causing him to lose consciousness.

 

Clarke lets out a surprised gasp at the action and watches Bellamy wince as he puts the jerry can down. “He’s not dead, but he’ll be out for a while,” Blake reassures her through gritted teeth, placing a bruised hand gently across his ribs. Clarke wonders if any of them are broken.

 

They begin to move with an unspoken agreement between them; they crawl together slowly and clumsily towards the middle of the shop, desperately trying to remove themselves from the violent scene before them. The room is filled with painful gasps and groans, as they get themselves comfortable by leaning back against a shelf and sitting side by side, thigh against thigh.

 

Sitting in silence, Clarke feels like she’s just come out of a surreal dream - her surroundings seem brighter and she feels an invisible pull towards the strong presence of the man sitting beside her. She’s never been more thankful than this moment – they’re both alive and the threat is gone…well, it’s lying on the ground unconscious. She takes notice of her breathing returning back to its normal rhythm, as much as it can after such a violent and frightening encounter. But the breathing of the man next to her is starting to alarm her; it’s becoming heavier and she swears a choked sob escapes his throat. She twists her body around, putting a supportive hand on his thigh to reassure him. “You’re okay.”

 

“No. I’m not,” he reveals quietly, his tone laced with pain. Clarke senses he’s just not talking about tonight. “My Mother, if she knew what I’d done, who I am…she raised me to be better, to be good…”

 

“Bellamy –”

 

“But all I do is hurt people.” He looks down at his bruised and bloody knuckles. “Everybody in my life I hurt. I’m a monster,” he whispers, anguished.

 

Clarke’s mouth drops open and her heart aches for him as she witnesses a stray tear fall down his cheek. In all the time she’s known him she had no idea that behind his tough exterior that there was this much self-loathing. She wonders if Octavia has ever been privy to this vulnerable side of him before, but she dismisses the thought away quickly because the way he’s so protective of her and constantly tries to shield her from anything bad, she doubts he’s ever let her see him this exposed. Once again, she realises that her and Bellamy are stumbling onto new ground, and like last time she has no idea where it could lead. They’ve just experienced something together so intense and life altering that no matter what happens between them, it will bond them together forever. Things like this can change people. “You’re not a monster,” she whispers intently, silently pleading for him to believe her. He can be an ass, but she’s _never_ believed for a moment that he’s a monster. _Ever._ “You saved my life tonight.”

 

Bellamy shakes his head, accompanying it with a loud sniff and avoids looking at her - instead he turns his attention to the shelf across from them. “You wouldn’t have needed saving if it wasn’t for me,” he tells her. “You were dragged into this mess and almost got killed because of me…because of my past.”

 

_His past?_ We _all_ have a past; some more eventful and tragic than others. But she wonders what on earth could have happened in _his_ past that was so bad that it nearly got them both killed tonight. Since meeting Bellamy, he’s always had an air of mystery about him even through all his snark and rudeness. But Clarke has always been intrigued and wondered how many secrets are buried deep within - because let’s face it, you can’t go through life acting like he does and not be holding some kind of secret or trauma. He’s piqued her interest, especially lately with his over the top behaviour - the constant meetups with Miller that always looked serious and intense, like it wasn’t a fun, social gathering between two buddies. Plus only a couple of weeks ago, he’d organised to have all of Octavia’s locks changed in her apartment without providing any explanation. He even offhandedly suggested to Clarke that she should think about upgrading hers as well. In the end both she and Octavia had shrugged the whole thing off, putting it down to the fact he’s too overprotective and controlling.

 

“I know you don’t like sharing things – especially with me,” she starts softly, trying to break the silence and the invisible wall between them. She swears she sees his face wince in what looks like shame. “But after what’s just happened to us, I have to know – no, I _deserve_ to know – what you’re talking about.”

 

He nods his head in agreement, but still avoids eye contact with her. A voice inside her tells her not to push him; that maybe it will be easier for him to reveal what’s just happened and why when he’s not feeling judged or questioned. Silence fills the air between them for a minute; she can tell he’s gathering his thoughts before he speaks. “It started nearly two years ago - I was a guard for ‘ _Ark Protection and Security’._ I didn’t like it, but it was a job, it paid the bills and I always had a little left over to help O with things she needed for school that her scholarship didn’t cover,” he reasons. “Plus it turned out I had a knack for that type of work; I found it quite easy to act intimidating and throw someone out on their ass if they were causing trouble.”

 

Clarke doesn’t hide the small smile gracing her face. “Yes, I’m sure you didn’t need any training for that.”

 

His lips curl softly at her words. “Anyway, I had a few different establishments that I looked after – _The Ton-DC night club, M & J Moonshine_ _Liquors_ and _Arcadia National Bank._ ” He pauses and exhales heavily. “Dax Shepherd also worked for _Ark_ and we were partnered together.” He lets the weight of his words sink in.

_So that’s how they know each other_. _What could have caused Dax Shepherd to want to kill his fellow partner? Wait – didn’t Dax mention that he’d been sent to jail before – and it was Bellamy’s fault? What on earth happened between them?_

 

Reading her mind, Bellamy continues. “Things were fine for a couple of months, we actually got along well…until the establishments we were guarding started getting robbed once we left for the day.”   

 

Clarke considers his profile curiously. “You suspected him.”

 

“Not at first,” shaking his head. “But after the second one I started to get suspicious. There were just too many coincidences. And the way they were getting in and knowing where things were kept, it rang alarm bells with me,” he explains.

 

“Did your superiors suspect either of you?”

 

He nods. “Yeah - when I first came to them with my suspicions, they eventually admitted they thought it was one of us. My boss, Pike, pulled me aside later and said they’d been leaning more towards Shepherd being the culprit but they didn’t have any proof.”

 

“So what happened after that?”

 

“A couple of days later I was called into Pike’s office for a secret meeting with a couple of detectives.” He stops to cough and clear his throat. “We all suspected that the bank would be the next target…and that’s when they told me they were going to catch Shepherd in the act, but that they needed my help.”

 

“They wanted you to infiltrate Shepherd’s gang to catch them and get the proof,” Clarke answers for him, knowing exactly where this is going. So that’s why Shepherd was so angry at Bellamy and wanted revenge. It also makes sense in why he tried to trick her into thinking Bellamy was a criminal - he was just part of the sting operation that helped put Shepherd and his gang away.

 

He nods, confirming this. “In the end we got the proof, but the whole thing was a long and messy process. I had to go to the state court and testify.”

 

Clarke nods. “And that’s what you were doing just before you met me?”

 

“Yeah,” he whispers hoarsely, closing his eyes; he looks absolutely exhausted. Not just from the psychical exertion of tonight’s attack, but carrying around such a heavy and unwanted burden. She can see how it could have weighed on his mind over the last couple of years.

 

“You did the right thing Bellamy,” she asserts, reassuringly. Before tonight she knows he never wanted or needed her approval or understanding about anything, but now with their defences down, she wants to give it to him – she wants him to know its okay.

 

In response, he turns his head to look at her for the first time since they sat down. “Even after what we just went through?” He asks, with a mixture of doubt and wonder. “After nearly getting killed by a gun-wielding psychopath? You still believe that?”

 

“Yes,” she replies, calmly. “What you did back then, putting yourself in danger like that, was a selfless and noble act.”

 

He scoffs, shaking his head, now looking slightly amused. “Noble? I never thought I would hear that noun next to my name. Ever.” He smirks. “Besides, I got to resign from that shitty job and got a free ride to college because of it.” He twists his body around slowly, and meets her eyes intently. “I wasn’t going to risk my life for nothing - I was going to get something out of it.” His eyes then soften, his shoulders drop and his voice reflects a hint of nervousness and vulnerability. “Do you still think I’m noble and selfless?”

 

She stares back at the liquid brown of his irises, feeling herself being pulled into their depths. For a moment she feels like she’s weightless, floating through a dark sky where no one can touch her. “Look around, Bellamy,” she tells him softly. “I think you’ve earned that college degree and then some.”

He grins back at her, and for a moment they stare at each other, not knowing what to say and too lost in each other’s comforting presence. It’s the loud hum of the air conditioner somewhere in the background that pulls Clarke out of her daze and ends their staring contest. Out of the corner of her eye she sees Bellamy run a hand through his sweaty hair and let out a tiny unsatisfied sigh. Not knowing what the sigh could mean, she averts her attention back to the chaotic mess all around them, as well as to the still unconscious man lying on the dirty tiles. “We should call the police.”

 

“Can’t – no service,” he grumbles. “I love this town, but we certainly live in the Stone Age.” He tries shuffling around in his spot again trying to get comfortable, but instead hisses in pain.

 

Clarke quickly puts her hands down on his arms trying to stop him. “Try not to move around so much, your ribs could be broken,” she reprimands. Looking at him carefully she knows he’s not capable to getting up and finding help - it will have to be her. _But what if Dax wakes up while I’m gone?_ Bellamy assured her that he won’t, but she doesn’t want to risk it and leave him here alone. Her worried facial expressions must show the dilemma her mind is currently pondering as Bellamy speaks up.  “Don’t worry, Miller will be passing through in about 20 minutes,” he reassures her, looking past her shoulder and taking note of the clock hanging on the wall above the counter. “He’s been doing it lately, after his shift at the club.” His voice then turns serious, genuine. “Besides, I don’t want you walking these roads by yourself.”

 

Clarke raises an eyebrow. “I think after tonight I’ve proven I can take care of myself.”

 

He smirks, looking at her appreciatively. “I don’t doubt that, but you’re hurt too,” he reminds her, indicating her stomach where Dax punched her and knocked the wind out of her. She swears she sees a flash of fury in Bellamy’s eyes before they soften again. “It’s best if we stay together and wait for Miller.”

 

She really can’t argue with that logic and truth be told, she really doesn’t have the energy to either walk back to her car with the gas can or walk in the direction of town to find help. “Okay,” she agrees. “We’ve definitely proven we’re good together.” He moves his head in a double take, like he wasn’t expecting to hear those words come out of her mouth, but he quickly recovers with an amused grin.

 

Clarke’s eyes go wide. “No, I…what I mean is…we work well together…as a team, I mean.” She adds, feeling a flush of heat rising at the back of her neck in embarrassment.

 

It’s clear he picked up on the innuendo, but instead of making her feel uncomfortable or ridiculing her, he answers back huskily, highlighting every word. “I agree - we are good together.”

 

The unexpected heat in his eyes and the rough baritone of his voice sends a jolt straight to her lower belly and she feels herself blushing. _Blushing?_ Who would have thought Bellamy Blake could make her blush – and in a middle of a crime scene of all places? _Oh my god, what is wrong with me?_ She ducks her face down, hoping he won’t see the evidence of her attraction. Yes, she has always been attracted to him; she has been ever since the first night she met him, but with all the arguing and disagreements between the two of them in the last year, the allure was always easy to deny and bury deep down. Sighing, she doesn’t think this is the right time or place to think about this now, so she tries to distract him with a change of topic. “Um, speaking of Miller – you knew something like this was going to happen. Didn’t you? All those conversations with Miller?” She looks up at him.

 

His heated gaze cools. “I can’t get anything past you, can I?” He says, sounding impressed. “I didn’t know anything for sure. I found out three months ago that Shepherd got released due to good behaviour and overcrowding,” he rolls his eyes in disgust. “The last I heard he was heading east towards Luna Waters – it’s pretty far away from here, but my old superiors thought I should know…just in case.”

 

“You should have told us – well, you should have at least told Octavia.”

 

“I didn’t want to worry her.”

 

“That should be your catchphrase,” she chastises, with a roll of her eyes. “Does she know the extent of all this?”

 

“No,” he shakes his head. “I may have omitted some of the truth – she doesn’t know that I was part of the sting operation. Just that I had to testify against my old partner,” he clarifies, looking a bit red faced and guilty.

 

“So let me get this straight,” Clarke says, a knowing smirk forming upon her lips. “The night we met, you accused me of keeping a secret from your sister, when all along you were doing the same thing.”

 

“That was different,” he tries to defend. She gives him a pointed look and his eyes lower in defeat. “Yeah, okay, I see your point,” he mumbles.

 

Given the seriousness of the situation they’re in, Clarke can’t help but let out a joyful laugh. “Wow,” she says, looking impressed. “I think that’s the closest thing I’ve ever gotten to a Bellamy Blake apology.”

 

“Yeah, well enjoy it, as it doesn’t happen very often,” he replies with a smirk.

 

They sit in relative silence for a few moments, each of them sneaking the occasional peek over to Dax, who is still lying unconscious. Bellamy blows out a heavy breath and she feels his shoulders next to hers drop down. She senses something is building inside him - that he’s on the threshold of revealing something important, so she doesn’t dare say a word or move a muscle. “The truth is,” he starts, with the sound of a heavy heart. “Trusting people is hard for me. And I don’t like it when people lie to me or to the people I care about.”

 

Clarke opens her mouth to defend herself but Bellamy manoeuvres himself to face her, cutting her off gently.

 

“And I know that makes me a hypocrite,” he tells her. “It’s just I was trying to protect my sister.” His face looks crestfallen. “She’s been lied to for most of her life - by our mother…and I had to follow along as well.”

 

“What do you mean?” Clarke asks gently. She has to fight her natural instincts to reach out and hold his hands in reassurance, she doesn’t like seeing anyone in pain – and after the events of tonight she never wants to see Bellamy hurt or suffering again.

“I’m sure O told you that we have different fathers.”

 

She nods her head, confirming his words. Octavia had revealed that Blake family skeleton early on in their friendship but it didn’t seem to faze her, she just mentioned it to Clarke casually one day and then moved on to the next topic without a care in the world.   

 

“My father died when I was quite young - it tore my mother up pretty badly,” he reveals, his lips pursed in thought. “Anyway a few years later, she met a man, he seemed great - always brought me presents,” he adds. “They were together for about a year and everything was going well. I remember the day she told me I was going to have a little brother or sister,” he pauses, reminiscing with a tiny smile. “I had never seen her so happy.”

 

“What happened?” She whispers, not sure if she wants to know the answer.

 

Bellamy’s eyes immediately flare into anger and his face turns hard. “The asshole was married - the whole time he was with us he had a wife and two kids back at home,” he spits out roughly. “When he found out my mom was pregnant he was furious. I remember he pulled out his wallet and threw some money at her, telling her to get rid of it. She was devastated.”

 

Clarke shakes her head in disbelief, “Oh my god, that’s awful, your poor mother – who was this guy?”

 

“He was from Mount Weather,” his voice spits out with venom, his tone icy. “Some cocky, rich socialite who enjoyed getting around behind his wife’s back.”

 

“Mount Weather?” 

 

“Yeah,” Bellamy grits out. “His name is Cage Wallace.”

 

“Cage Wallace?!” Clarke asks, shocked, her eyes widening in recognition.

 

“You know him?” Bellamy enquiries.

 

“Not very well,” she tells him, shaking her head. “My mother’s mentioned him a few times over the years. He used to work at the same hospital as her,” she explains. “Wait, does Octavia know that he’s her father?”

 

“She does now,” he says, his tone turning to annoyance. “Growing up, my mother made me promise never to tell her, but after she died I ended up breaking that promise. I thought O had a right to know when she asked.”

 

Clarke nods her head. “Well we’ve only spoken about her father once, but she didn’t mention any name. In fact the whole topic didn’t seem to bother her,” she reassures him.

 

“That’s O for you,” he smirks an unmistakable look of pride on his face. “Me on the other hand…” he trails off for a moment, like he’s thinking about something, before his features fill with heated resolve. “So is he still working at your mom’s hospital?”

 

Clarke hesitates for a moment, looking down at her dirty fingernails before revealing Cage Wallace’s fate. “He’s dead, Bellamy.”

 

“What?!”

 

Clarke nods her head slowly, confirming. “He died a few years ago - a hunting accident.”

 

Bellamy looks back at her in shock, like he can’t believe what he’s just heard. He opens his mouth, like he’s about to say something, before he closes it again and leans back against the shelf with a heavy sigh.

 

“Do you feel better?” She asks, after a moment.

 

“No,” he says, softly. His anger has disappeared but is now replaced again by sadness. “I thought hearing something like that would make me feel better, but it doesn’t – it doesn’t change a damn thing.”

 

Hesitantly, she reaches over to where his hand sits on his thigh, and slowly entwines their hands together. Her heart beats a mile a minute, worried he will break out of her grasp, offended by her touch. But he doesn’t - in fact he grips her hand tighter. “Is that why you didn’t like me when we first met?” She asks. “Because I was from Mount Weather? You didn’t think you could trust me?”

 

“Yes,” he replies hoarsely, his cheeks tinged pink with a hint of shame.

 

She closes her eyes with a soft sigh, feeling an enormous weight lift off her shoulders and her muscles loosen from the tension and melt away. _Finally_ , she knows the truth; the real reason why he’s had it in for her since the beginning. Although she can’t condone his behaviour, she has a huge amount of empathy and understanding about why he did it. At such a young and vulnerable age his trust was broken; he witnessed his mother’s suffering, and the consequences and abandonment of a man who they assumed would always be there for both of them. And on top of that, he’d taken on the responsibility of looking after his sister. Just the thought of what he’s gone through his entire life gives Clarke a whole new perspective and admiration towards Bellamy Blake.

 

She’s pulled out of her thoughts by the feel of his thumb rubbing soft and soothing circles around her hand. This new and surprising gesture makes her body tingle all over.

 

“I know you’re not like that,” he murmurs, and she feels a pull, an unseen but powerful magnetic force flowing from him and radiating into her palm. “I see who you are.”

 

She meets his gaze and her lips curl up into a gentle smile, she swears her cheeks have turned crimson at his statement. “When did you start seeing who I really was?”

 

“When O was sick,” he tells her, not missing a beat. “The way you took care of her; making her soup and staying with her. It’s like my eyes started opening up that day.” He shifts in his spot, so he’s looking at her directly. “Don’t get me wrong Princess, you still annoy the hell out of me,” he chuckles as he sees Clarke’s face in fake offense. “But I think that’s why… I like you,” he reveals carefully, staring intently into her eyes to try and read her reaction. Clarke’s eyes widen at his bold statement, but then her features soften with wonder. He continues on, his voice coming out braver. “I like that you call me out on all my crap, you challenge me like no one else in my entire life,” he lists off. “You’re smart, beautiful and I admire you for stepping out of a life you weren’t happy with and trying to make a new one for yourself.

 

“Bellamy…”

 

“And I know you care deeply about the people around you – I see it with O and with Lincoln and tonight…I saw it with me.”

 

She feels overwhelmed by his confession; she doesn’t know what to say, and she’s never been speechless when it comes to Bellamy. But this is entirely different, it’s like his words have become a key in unlocking something that was deeply embedded inside her, something she wasn’t even sure existed. She does feel something for him…

 

“Why did you stay?” He asks carefully, his eyes now warm and staring at her nervously. “You don’t owe me anything. I told you to get out of here, but you stayed - why?”

 

“Because you didn’t deserve that and…” she stops to gather her thoughts.

 

He continues looking at her with tentative eyes, like he’s afraid what she’s going to say.

 

She laughs inwardly and she suddenly feels shy under his gaze. “I think I didn’t want to leave you because…well, I think you know why,” she tells him sincerely. It’s a truth that’s always been there, one she can now acknowledge and say out loud.  

 

Bellamy’s face breaks out into the widest grin she’s ever seen and it’s magnificent, brighter and warmer than the sun. She thinks he needs to smile like that all the time. “So, I’m not being presumptuous here?” He asks hopefully, needing confirmation. “That the feelings I’ve been developing for you over the last few months…that you feel something for me too?”

 

Clarke smiles back – she’d thought something was a bit off with him over the last few months, and though there was still their usual banter and fights over the silliest things, the malice had gone. Their interactions had confused her, but after tonight, she now sees things so much more clearly. “You’ve done a really good job at hiding how you feel by the way, Bellamy,” she adds. “If tonight hadn’t have happened, I’d still be in the dark.”

He nods. “Don’t forget I’m a master at hiding stuff when I need to, and I didn’t want to reveal anything to you when I thought it was only one-sided. Besides it’s been fun riling you up,” he adds with a wink. “I know when I’ve really gotten to you because you get these little lines between your brows.” He laughs, pointing in amusement to her forehead, and Clarke turns her head in feigned annoyance.  His laughter stops and his face turns more serious, his eyes showing a hint of nervousness. “So I’m going to repeat my question - do you feel anything for me? Even just a little bit? I understand if you need more time to think, I haven’t made your life easy, but –”

 

“Shut up, Bellamy,” Clarke demands, turning her head back around, placing a hand on his battered cheek and running her fingers gently down his jaw. “I do feel something for you,” she reassures him with a smile. “In fact, I was attracted to you the first night we met, but then you had to go and be an ass.”

 

He leans into her touch and covers her hand with his. Clarke feels a hitch in her breathing as she’s overwhelmed by the feel of his strong, calloused hand on top of hers. He moves forward so there’s only a small space between them; she can feel his warm breath fanning across her lips. “I told you before I’m no Prince Charming,” he murmurs huskily. “I might be an ass from time to time, but I promise from now on - I won’t be that person to _you_.”

 

“That’s a shame, I think I’m going to miss Bellamy the ass,” she jokes. “But can we still fight and argue?”

 

“Well, we are pretty good at it,” he plays along, his gaze lowering to her lips.

 

Noting where his attention lays, she wets her lips in anticipation. “I’ve heard that make up sex can be pretty good too,” she replies.

 

Bellamy’s breath stops at her words and exhales out with a groan that echoes in his chest. “Are you trying to kill me, Clarke?”

 

“No, I’m trying to kiss you,” she tells him, leaning forward and placing her lips lightly onto his. Very quickly, Bellamy places his other hand behind her neck and encourages her to come closer, so they’re chest to chest. Both of them let out small gasps of pain from their injuries, but neither stops as their mouths move together; tentatively at first, before throwing caution to the wind. Bellamy uses his tongue to lick the seam of her lips, seeking permission for her to open her mouth and she submits willingly. They breathe each other in like their lives depend on it, their tongues dancing together in a frenzied rhythm, like every tension and squabble between them over the last year has built up and burst into a blaze of flames. A throaty moan escapes Bellamy’s mouth as Clarke runs her hands teasingly through his mop of curly hair, while Clarke sighs in relief when she feels his solid, muscular chest against her breasts.

 

“Fuck! What the hell happened here?” A new and familiar voice calls out behind them. The intrusion causes them to break apart swiftly, like shamed school children who have just been caught by a parent.

 

“Hey, Miller,” Clarke’s voice breaks the tension and the unanswered question in the air first.

 

“Hey, Miller?” He asks incredulously, looking at them both with wide eyes, before taking in the mess surrounding them; the items that had fallen off the shelves during their scuffle and the still unconscious man lying nearby. “Is that all I get?! What the hell happened? I walk in and we have this guy here,” he points to Dax, “Lying on the ground unresponsive and you two making out like teenagers. Have I walked in on a really bad, clichéd action movie?”

 

“That’s Dax Shepherd,” Bellamy answers out gruffly.

 

Miller looks down at the floor again. “Holy shit. Is he dead?”

 

Bellamy shakes his head, “Just unconscious,” he answers, trying to stand up. Clarke quickly reaches for him as he struggles, both of them leaning on each other for support as they manage to rise to their feet.

 

Miller moves in, looking at them more closely. “You both look like shit.”

 

“Thanks,” Clarke retorts back sarcastically.

 

“Don’t worry Clarke, I’m sure a little kissing will help you feel better. Don’t you agree Bellamy?” Miller jests with a smirk.

 

“Shut up,” Bellamy replies, avoiding his stare as he manoeuvres Clarke in front of him, away from the scene and walking her to the front doors. “Miller, hand over your keys?”

 

“I never knew you were such a kinky bastard,” Miller responds, amused, handing over his car keys.

 

Bellamy places them in Clarke’s hands, wrapping his hands around hers and pulling her to him. He looks down at her intently, “Get in the rover, drive to the police station and tell them what happened –”

 

“No, I’m not leaving you.”

 

“Clarke,” he says, reassuringly. “It’s alright, Miller’s here – nothing will happen.”

 

“Well if nothing will happen, then Miller can go –”

 

“No, you’ve seen enough,” he states firmly. “I need you to get out of here,” he tells her. “Please, go - I’ll see you soon, I promise.”

 

With the protectiveness clear in his eyes, tinted with a little bit of fear, she knows she can’t say no to him – plus, she also doesn’t want to get into another fight, she’s had enough of those to last a lifetime. “Alright, I’ll go,” she nods, pulling out of his embrace. “But after all this you owe me a drink.”

 

He chuckles. “How about dinner and a drink?” He asks, almost shyly.

 

Clarke’s face lights up, but she quickly tones it down, not wanting to seem too keen. “I think that can be arranged,” she says playfully, turning around and heading towards Miller’s car.

 

Behind her she can hear the distinctive voice of Miller. “What the hell happened here tonight? And I’m not talking about Shepherd. You know Octavia is going to be excited about this – I didn’t believe her, but she told me this would happen eventually.”

 

Clarke smiles to herself - at least she doesn’t have to worry about Octavia’s reaction to the news of her and Bellamy. As she closes the heavy door to the rover, she puts her seatbelt on, feeling the presence of someone staring at her. Looking up, she sees Bellamy watching her from the doors of the gas station with a relieved smile on his face. He gives her a wink and then turns his attention to Miller.

 

Starting the car she realises she was right earlier when she thought tonight was one of the worst nights of her life, nothing will ever beat it. But she also never thought that something so good and promising could come out of it – a relationship with Bellamy. Taking a deep breath, Clarke puts the car into drive and swerves out of the parking lot as quick as she can, heading into the town of Arcadia, her home. The sooner tonight is over, the sooner she and Bellamy can have that drink and start a new phase in their lives. Together.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading. This is the first story I've written for the 100 fandom and only the second story I've ever written so I hope you liked the first chapter. This will be a small multi chapter story and from now on it'll be set in the present. 
> 
> You can find me on tumblr under 'Peetaspikelets'. I usually post sneak peaks to my stories and other things I'm working on.


End file.
